


I Will Find You

by Neeka



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Apocalypse, BAMF!Stiles, Bamf!Stiles Stilinski, Blimey what a happy collection of tags, Blood, Blood and Gore, Death, Disturbing Themes, Dystopia, F/M, Gore, Grief/Mourning, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Infection, Injury, M/M, Pack Feels, Sacrifice, Scars, Stilinski Family Feels, Torture, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, and possibly resolved sexual tension, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:06:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 49
Words: 113,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neeka/pseuds/Neeka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stiles was away at college when the world went to shit. He was alone, afraid and so very, very confused. But more than anything, he was determined. He just had to get home. Had to find his dad, his pack. Had to make sure they were safe."</p>
<p>When a rapid spreading virus breaks out, turning most of the population into mindless, undead killing machines, Stiles Stilinski has to fight his way back home. Because nothing, not even the freaking zombie apocalypse can stand between him and the people he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A/N Hey my lovelies! This is something I've been sat on for a while now and I've finally decided to start posting it :) I have a lot of the chapters written already, and the rest planned out just waiting to be written, so I imagine that gaps between updates won't be too long at all. I hope you guys like this and get as hooked reading it as I have writing it :) Toodle pip and enjoy :)

 

Stiles was away at college when the world went to shit. He was alone, afraid and so very, very confused. But more than anything, he was determined. He just had to get home. Had to find his dad, his pack. Had to make sure they were safe.

It happened slowly at first, news reports trickling through describing isolated incidents of extreme violence caused by what seemed to be a very severe virus. Soon however, it wasn’t so isolated. It all went to shit very fast after that. One week in fact. The world ended in just one week.

Stiles wasn’t exactly religious, but he found a sick sort of irony in that. Created in seven days, destroyed in seven days.

The cities were the first to fall; their high population and confined spaces only aided the spread of the virus. Pretty soon the majority of any cities population was either dead, infected or fleeing for their lives. That fleeing was what then infected other places, as those infected sometimes didn’t even realize it till it was too late, or simply didn’t care, just wanting to get the hell outa dodge.

It just spread like wildfire.

But regardless of all that, Stiles still had hope. Despite being a town of fairly decent size, Beacon Hills' population wasn’t that big. It was fairly isolated and certainly not confined, not with that great big forest.

Derek and the pack knew that forest like the back of their hands, well, paws more like, and if the shit had hit the fan there to the point where even the new and improved Hale house was no longer safe, he was sure Derek would have lead them somewhere even more isolated, somewhere even more safe.

And at least they were all together. Stiles’ college was the last to finish for the summer, and the last time he talked to them all, a day before all the phone lines went down, they were all together and planning to come and get him.

He remembered how quickly he had shot that idea down in flames. There was no way in hell he was allowing them to leave a place they were all safe and together to risk their lives for one person. For him. He wasn’t worth it.

Scott argued of course, getting more and more agitated until Derek grabbed the phone off him, growling at him to shut up so they didn’t attract any unwanted attention. Surprisingly enough though, Derek argued too. He even offered to come get him alone! That’s when Stiles really knew it was the apocalypse.

But, as tempting as that offer was, especially with the screaming and smashing of glass outside getting louder, Stiles just couldn’t abide the thought that someone was risking their lives for him. Plus, Derek was their Alpha. The pack needed him.

So after arguing his case over and over, finally shouting at them to stop wasting time because he needed to leave like, yesterday, they reluctantly agreed, telling him they'd be at the Hale house and that he'd better hurry his ass up. Which was how Stiles found himself gearing up for travelling through the freaking zombie apocalypse.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N As the first chapter was so short, I decided I'd post the second one now as well. Hopefully it might draw you all in a bit better :p As always, I hope you enjoy it and please feel free to drop me a comment on here or on my tumblr account http://teenyblondini.tumblr.com/ Toodle pip :) 

 

Four days had passed since he talked to the pack. He’d planned on getting out of there that day, but things…well, they hadn’t quite turned out that way. Apparently people who don’t face the supernatural every day get pretty damn stupid when they're scared, and they caused almost as much trouble as the mindless infected.

So he hid. He was lucky enough to have an apartment high up, something he’d always bitched about before but couldn’t be more grateful for now, with his flatmate and her boyfriend, Lea and Dan. They were both really great people and very good friends, but it seemed like even at the end of the freaking world he was still destined to be the third wheel.

It was still hard hiding though. They didn’t have much food in the flat, so had to ration it out and couldn't turn lights on at night, only a few candles once they’d covered the windows with what they could; black trash bags and bits of clothing mostly. It was also freezing after day two, as all the heating in the building went out, meaning no hot water either. But they were lucky to still have any running water at all, so Stiles wasn’t really complaining.

It was the screaming that was the worst though, the sounds of pain and sheer terror. They haunted Stiles day and night and all he wanted to do was run out there with his baseball bat and help. Or try to anyway. But he didn’t. He had a pack to get back to, a pack that needed him and wanted him home. And he had a father, one who would dive into a whiskey bottle if he didn’t come home.

So he hid. He curled up on the couch, head buried in a pillow as people banged on the front door so loud, he could hear it all the way up in his flat. Lea and Dan hated it too, he knew they did But it just wasn’t the same and somehow they could see that. They could see how much it hurt him to not help but never truly understood why.

They didn’t know that Stiles' first instinct was to always help people. They didn’t know the amount of times he’d run head first into danger without a second thought to his own safety. They didn’t know he ran with wolves. But right now he didn’t have any wolves to run with at all, instead, he had wolves to run too.

He managed for four days. Then he snapped. A young woman was screaming, banging at the door and God, she sounded so much like Allison that he didn’t even think; he just grabbed his bat and moved. He legged it down the stairs two at a time, ignoring the warnings from his flatmates, and banged into the front door, shouting to the person outside, telling them to hold on, he was coming.

But by the time he'd gotten down, un-barricaded the door and sprang out with his nail studded baseball bat, it was too late. The woman, who could only have been Derek’s age, was surrounded by the infected and being torn apart, her blood curdling screams echoing around the chaotic remnants of the street. It was probably the worst thing he'd ever witnessed, and considering all the things he'd seen back in Beacon Hills, that was really saying something.

The infected were...hellish. It was the first time he'd seen them up close and they looked like something out of his worst nightmares. They smelt of rotting meat, death and decay. Their skin was grey and even falling off in places. Their clothes were ripped or missing completely and their hair was knotted, blood matted and had clumps missing, like it had been pulled out. They moved in jerks, almost like puppets on a string, not in control of their bodies, dragging their decaying feet along the floor in an eager effort to get to the poor woman.

They tore into her with desperate, unrelenting hands; ripping bits off to put in their snapping, gore splattered mouths or just stripping flesh straight from her body with their rotting, broken teeth. It was sheer carnage.

It was the eyes that were the worst though. The whites weren't white anymore, instead looking like someone had injected them with black oil. Their pupils were blood red with flecks of orange and they were just empty; no trace of humanity in them whatsoever, instead just a kind of empty hunger, totally focused on the bleeding, ripped mess that used to be a person.

Until however, he backed away slowly and nearly tripped over a pipe on the floor behind him, alerting them to his presence with the noise. If he thought their eyes were bad before, it was nothing compared to them being zoned in on him.

"Shit."

He froze. He was going to die. Like, right now. He'd never see his dad again, or Scott or Derek. Wait, why was he thinking about Derek when he was about to be torn to pieces? Well, probably because he was regretting turning down his offer now. Or the fact that he'd probably blame himself.

They had grown so much closer over the past two years, almost without them knowing, and they now actually did care about each other. Well, if the amount of times they'd saved each other had anything to say about it. Stiles was also very proud to be the only person in the pack who could actually cope with and understand most of his 'Derek-isms'.

It was a shame really; he was really looking forward to understanding them all. And he'd sort of made it his life's mission to make him smile. A real one. It sucked he hadn't succeeded.

All of this ran through his head in about three seconds. He briefly lifted his eyes to the sky above him, mentally preparing himself for dying. But then the strangest thing happened; a bird flew across his line of sight. A little robin. It flew over his head and landed on a rail behind the infected, letting out a few melodic chirps. Stiles just stared at it, hardly believing what he was seeing. They were his mom’s favourite birds.

And just like that, something inside him clicked. He was not going to die today. He refused. He had things he needed to do, people he needed to see. He couldn't leave his dad alone. He had to make Derek smile.

Hefting his bat he steeled himself. Time to kick some ass.

The fight felt like it lasted forever; every second slowing down to what seemed like hours. Realistically, it had probably lasted about 15 minuets as he took down one rotten infected after the other. It was bloody, disgusting work and he was covered in gore in the first few seconds.

It was going as well as fighting the walking undead could go until he came to fight the final three. These were different. Very different. They weren't as rotten for one thing and moved easier than the others. But it was their eyes that were the strangest. They were clearer and almost...conscious.

The few seconds he'd hesitated while he took in this strange new type of infected were a few seconds too long. They pounced. It was then that Stiles truly thought he was screwed. Because dear God, they were faster.

He was backed into a wall, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Well, more like a rock and three deadly fucking monsters! He raised his bat and swung at the first infected, knocking it's head to the side, black congealing blood spraying from it's mouth and it's partially caved in head. However, where this would have floored any other of the others, it seemed to just piss this one off more and as it turned it's ruined face towards him he had to fight the urge to vomit out of fear.

They started to advance on him, blood soaked hands reaching out to grab him, totally unfazed by his swinging bat until he could actually smell their rotten breath. He was preparing for the end when the closest infected just dropped. His eyes widened in surprise at the weight that had crushed its head. Looking up he saw his flatmates hanging out of a window, holding his training weights and aiming them at the zombies in front of him.

The second one went down, it's blood splattering all over him and he was so relieved and over joyed that a strangled kind of shriek escaped him and he jumped in the air, fist pumping as he did, the rush of adrenalin making him feel drunk and loopy.

He leapt at the final zombie, bat rushing down viciously on the top of its head, knocking it to the floor. He brought the bat down on it's head once again just to be sure but then found he couldn't stop, even when it's head was a bloody pulp in front of him.

He carried on in a daze where time slowed down and all that mattered was destroying this abomination in front of him, to use it as an outlet for all his anger and fear and confusion. He continued until words started to seep into his red haze, they were distorted and far away, barely distinguishable until he felt hands on his back and shoulders and the world snapped back into clarity.

"Stiles you idiot! Stop! Get inside now before you attract more here!"

He listens to Lea through a fog and allowed her to pull him inside, her boyfriend re-barricading the door before grabbing Stiles' other arm and helping him up the many flights of stairs.

He drifts in and out of the haze the whole way up, letting them take most of his weight and guide him. He could hardly move his legs.

It reminded him, somewhere in the back of his mind where his lucidity was hiding, of being paralysed by the Kanima. The sheer weight of what had just happened and what he'd just done being just as potent a paralytic as it's venomous claws.

He'd nearly died. He'd killed something. He'd nearly been torn to pieces. He'd bashed people’s brains in. He'd seen a woman brutally ripped to shreds and eaten. He'd nearly suffered the same fate. He'd hit something in the head over and over and over, blood and gore spraying all over him.

He'd enjoyed it.

He just managed to pull away before he threw up all over the stairwell, gripping the rail tight so he didn't fall over. He emptied what little had been on his stomach and was left dry heaving painfully. His head was pounding, he was shaking like crazy and when he finally tried to straighten up and move, his legs gave out under him. Luckily for him, Dan was still hovering near by and he caught him before he face planted pathetically in his own vomit. Zombie apocalypse or no, some things are just not meant to be done.

Dan half supported half dragged him inside their flat, shutting and re-barricading the door behind them. They both pulled him over to the couch and sat him down, Lea pulling a blanket over his shaking form before sitting next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Distantly he wished he could have a cup of tea. His mom would always make him one when he needed to calm down.

He came back to himself after what felt like a few minuets later, but must have been longer, as Lea had moved from next to him over to the other love seat where she was curled up asleep with Dan. Stiles smiled to himself at the sight. As much as he bitched at couples for being sickeningly lovey dovey, he was a romantic at heart. Seeing them together like that reminded him that there was still good, even when the world had gone to shit. Most of all though it reminded him of Scott and Allison.

He shakily stood, wrapping the threadbare blanket around him and shuffling over to the partially covered window. The sun was just about to set and was bathing everything in a warm orange glow. If he kept his eyes on the sky, he could almost ignore the sheer desolation of the city below. Almost. Taking a deep, steadying breath he steeled himself; they needed to move and move fast.

Covering up the last bit of exposed window, he stepped back into the room, placing the blanket over the sleeping couple before going into the kitchen to make an inventory of everything they have and anything they would need. It would probably be a sobering exercise but it needed to be done. Tomorrow, they were getting the hell outta dodge come rain or shine.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Thanks to the constant mithering of cheshirekitt, I though I'd wack another chapter out for you guys :) And seriously my loves, thank you so, so much for all of the kudos, subscriptions, comments and bookmarks :) they have all made my day and I really hope you continue to enjoy this :) toodle pip :) 

 

The next morning came far too swiftly for Stiles' liking, he felt like he'd only just collapsed into bed after making a complete inventory of everything. It was sobering, but not as bad as he'd thought. He was sure, if they severely rationed it out, they could survive on until Beacon Hills.

Hauling himself up and dressing in the sturdiest clothes he had; tough jeans, two t-shirts underneath his usual plaid shirt and his favourite thick red hoodie over the top, as well as the tough black lace up boots he'd gotten years ago for trudging through the forest all the time. He'd learned pretty damn quickly after going through three pairs of ordinary shoes in two months!

He'd always kept them in the back of the jeep and putting them on now somehow made him feel stronger. He'd faced down all manners of supernatural beings in these boots; from manic Alpha werewolves to conflicted Kanimas, so he was sure as hell gunna face down freaking zombies in them. 

Making his way into the living room, he gently woke up Lea and Dan, laughing softly when Dan demanded breakfast in bed first and smacking him upside the head.

He left them to wake up, moving into the kitchen to grab everyone some breakfast. Well, breakfast bars really. God he hated muesli. With a passion. Seriously though, just what exactly is the point of it? It's just dry cardboard that gets stuck in your teeth. Maybe he could find some honey or Nutella to dip it in. That would make it so much better. Surely zombies don't go after that kind of stuff. But hey, maybe honey dipped brains were a zombie delicacy or something. Actually, on second thoughts, he was probably better finding some more Adderall instead.

Moving back into the living room he passed Lea her bar and threw the other at Dan, who had gone back to sleep. He jolted up with a start and, on seeing Stiles' grinning face, flicked him the bird but finally got up.

They ate in comfortable silence for a bit before Stiles finally decided to tell them the plan he'd been mulling over all night. 

“We’re leaving”

Their heads shot up and looked over at him and he held their gaze.

“It’s not safe here anymore. Yesterday showed that. The longer we wait the more this whole town gets over run. It’ll be hard enough to get out now as it is. Staying any longer would be suicide. If we have any chance of getting out of here, we have to leave today.”

Stiles prepared himself for arguing his case, expecting there to be objections. However, there was none. They simply looked at each other, did that annoying silent conversation that all good couples seem to be able to do, and then turned back to Stiles and nodded their agreement.

"Oh. Well, that was easy. I was expecting some arguments. Good. Okay, well, we need to get packing. My jeep is in the parking lot behind us, so we'll need to run and, I suspect, fight our way to it. So we need to pack sensibly. Light enough that we can move quickly and fight easily, but well enough that we have the essentials and enough food and water to last the trip. So please, I know it's hard, but we can't take mementos. Pick one or two that have the most emotional value to you and leave the rest. You can keep them in your heart, but we can't afford to take up space with them. I'm sorry."

They nodded again, though obviously unhappy about it. Stiles agreed with them wholeheartedly. He had many things that meant a lot to him; gifts from people, pictures, objects. He would have to leave it all behind. He knew what he would take though. But he’d think about that later.

“Okay, so, up and at em guys, I want us well gone by midday, we don’t want to get stuck God knows where by dark. I want enough time to have a decent look around for somewhere safe to stay tonight. So go pack your own things, I’ll get food and essentials. Move, move, move!”

His bad attempt at being a drill sergeant was met with raised eyebrows.

“Okay fine. Fly my pretties! Fly!!”

Shaking their heads at his badly mimed flying and his just general craziness, they both moved off into their room. Hopefully they would listen to his instructions and pack well. He’d hate to have to do it all again himself.

Popping his second to last pill of Adderall, as he assumed it wouldn’t be a good idea to get distracted in the middle of clearing out the kitchen, he headed off into his own room, grabbing his dads huge kit bag that he’d accidentally on purpose taken when moving in and carried on to the kitchen. He had a feeling they were going to be even sicker of muesli bars when they finally reached Beacon Hills.

And that was a when.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Hello my lovelies :D Just got back from kicking arse at archery and thought I'd wack another chapter up :D It's also a longer one anorl! I'm bloody loving writing this by the way, and knowing you guys are enjoying it is just awesome ^__^ Love you all!!! Toodle pip :)

 

It was about half an hour later when he’d finally finished loading the kit bag full of their worryingly small amount of food and drink, which included a fair bit of alcohol because come on, in the middle of the freaking zombie apocalypse, he imagined people would need a few drinks.

Putting the bag in the living room, he went back to his own, passing his friends room and quickly popping his head in to make sure they were actually packing and not having a quickie. They were not, in any way shape or form, packing.

He was about to throw something at them but stopped last minute; from what he could see, it looked like they had pretty much finished getting their stuff together, so why not let them have a bit of together time before they go out and face the hoards of undead roaming the streets.

Moving away quickly before he got an eye full of something he most definitely did not want to see, he opened his door.

It wasn’t until he was faced with choosing what he took of his life here that the whole situation finally sunk in.

There were zombies. Actual living dead bodies. They tore people apart and ate or turned them. He was about to leave the relative safety of his apartment to battle his way to his jeep, assuming it was still useable, and then travel home. A home he couldn’t know for sure was still there.

Trying to control his panicked breathing, he took his phone out of his hoodie pocket, knowing it was futile but hoping anyway that he would see it working. That somehow the phone lines had come back up.

They hadn’t.

Throwing his phone onto his bed, he slumped to the floor, back against the bed. He didn’t know what he expected. He’d only just managed to finish his conversation with Derek when they went, and no amount of trying since had done anything but get him more and more worked up.

Shouldn’t the government have had some freaking plan for all this? Okay, maybe not the living dead per say, but something like a wide spread epidemic that could cause global collapse. Surely they should have had something in mind for all the phone lines going down! Jesus Christ!

Recognizing the start of a panic attack, he put his head on his pulled up knees, tucking himself in as tight as he could go and just breathed. He could not give into the panic. He had his friends to keep safe. He had a job to do. He had people he loved to get back to.

There was no damn time for a panic attack.

Pulling himself out of it in a way his old councilor would have been proud of, he got to his feet shaky but determined.

He threw clothes into his duffle bad, aiming for tough items that wouldn’t wear down easily before finally moving on to the more important things.

Moving over to his dresser, he looked at the pictures and nick knacks that were spread all over it. He saw him and his dad when he graduated, his dad beaming with a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. He loved that picture, mostly because his dad just looked so damn proud of him. Ever since Scott had been bitten and he’d had to lie constantly, Stiles felt like his dad was disappointed in him and it killed him to be honest. It felt like their relationship was deteriorating and it was all his fault. 

This picture was a taken a few months after he finally had to tell him, due to being kidnapped by a rouge hunter who wanted to get information out of him or, preferably, draw his pack out to rescue him.

He’d been beaten black and blue, and he still had the scars on his chest and back from where the dick has decided to use his knife to loosen Stiles’ tongue.

He never said a single word though. Well, “fuck you” was said quite a bit, but he never spilled anything on his pack. And as scared as he was, because man that dude was screwed in the head, he was taken aback to realize he would actually die before he said anything. He would never, ever betray his pack.

Luckily it hadn’t come to that. Derek swooped in to the rescue, red eyes blazing and claws slashing. He took the hunter down in seconds, but perhaps took a little longer than necessary in killing him.

He didn’t remember much after that, but Scott had told him that Derek has carried him out of there like a freaking swooning bride. Well, a swooning bride dripping in blood that is.

Apparently he wouldn’t let him go for anything. Not even to Scott. He held onto him the whole way to the hospital and only released him to the nurses after a lot of persuasion and promises that he’d be safe. It was really sort of sweet actually.

So once he woke up, there was really no way he could tell a lie big enough to cover that. So he had to tell. His dad was freaked out at first and nearly called the nurse, thinking there was something wrong with his head. He only stopped when Derek, who had hardly left his side, flashed his fangs and eyes.

This certainly didn’t help with the freaking out, but at least he didn’t think Stiles was crazy anymore. Well, no more than he usually did.

Life just took a turn for the better after that. Funny how it took being captured and tortured for information to make it happen. He and his dad grew closer than ever, as did he and Derek. It seemed like the guy trusted him more after that, which for Derek was a seriously big deal. The pack was tighter than ever and it was like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He was actually happy.

Dragging himself out of his memories before they set off his panic again, Stiles took the picture out of its frame and tucked it safely into his bag. That one was a definite. He just hoped and prayed that Derek and the Pack were looking after his dad.

The next thing he looked at was a picture of the pack. God he loved that picture. Every time he looked at it he just got an overwhelming feeling of belonging. It had been taken by his dad just before everyone headed off to college and everyone had a copy. Yep, even old Sourwolf.

Stiles was in the middle, Derek on one side, Scott on the other and everyone else close together on either side. Derek had tracked down some special contact lenses that werewolves could use when they needed to have their picture taken, for drivers licenses, passports and the like, so there wasn’t any lens flare and the werewolves didn’t need to close their eyes.

It was sort of the perfect picture and he just had to take that too. Putting it next to the other, he moved on to the last picture he would take with him.

It was a picture of him and his mom. It had been taken a few weeks before she was diagnosed and it was a long time before Stiles could look at it, let alone have it up on show. But now he was so grateful that he did. It still hurt pretty much all the time, but this way he could still see her, still remember what she looked like. They were in the park and had been playing chase. His mom had just grabbed him by the waist and was lifting him up when his dad snapped the picture. They were both laughing, faces lit up with pure happiness. She was such a beautiful woman, his mom. She had his colour hair and the same golden honey eyes. He also got his moles off her, though they’d doubled when they passed to him. Mostly though, she was just always happy, always so full of life and love. She was the perfect mom and it just sucked that she was taken away from him. He was angry about it for a long, long time, but now he was just sad. But he would see her again one day, hopefully. And until then, at least he had pictures and memories.

Putting it with the others Stiles shut his bag securely, feeling much better now that he had them. The only other thing of importance he would take was something he was already wearing. A necklace from Derek.

It was sometime not long after he was abducted that he was given it. Once night, he heard his bedroom window open as he was typing away at his computer. He’d jumped in fright, heart pounding and head full of images of the rogue hunter, of fists and knives and blood. What if there was another!? What if they were coming back for him!?

He didn’t realize he’d been slipping into a panic attack until he felt warm, large hands on his wrist, a familiar face entering his line of sight. Like magic, he relaxed, embarrassment flooding him as he realized he’d really freaked out and probably looked a right dork. He’d been jumpy as hell since he got out of the hospital and hardly slept thanks to the nightmares. He pretended to be fine as much as he could though, not wanting to worry his dad any more than he already had. The pack too.

Derek had sensed the change in him though and had forbid him from being ashamed. He’d said it was fine and normal to freak out after what he’d been through. Then he divulged, in a voice so quiet Stiles had to strain to hear it, that after the fire, he couldn’t even look at flames. Not even the smallest candle.

Stiles knew how big of a deal it was that Derek had shared that with him and it calmed him immediately. It also made him want to pull Derek into a hug, but he liked his arms where they were thanks, so he resisted.

With an un-characteristic expression of shyness, Derek had then reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked to be a pendant, hesitating momentarily before reaching out and placing it into Stiles’ hand. He looked down with wide eyes and stared at the object in his palm. It was beautiful.

The pendant was silver and flat, about the size of a large coin and surprisingly weighty. It had the most beautifully engraved full moon that took over all of it and a small howling wolf in front with little agate gemstones for eyes. It was smooth to the touch as well, as though it had been rubbed so often that it had been worn down. It was obviously a very loved item.

"Is...is this yours?"

Derek looked at the object in Stiles' hand with obvious affection, a tiny smile playing on the corner of his lips and his eyes lost to memory.

"Yeah, it is. Laura...she got it me after...after the fire. Agate is for protection and the moon is our strength. I didn't...feel safe after the fire. Wasn't used to being in such a small pack. And then when I'd think of fire...well, I just didn't feel safe. So she gave it to me to protect me. To make me feel safe. It always helped. So after what happened, I thought I'd pass it on to you. If you, if you want it that is."

It was one of the very, very few times in his life where Stiles was actually speechless. He just stared at the Alpha in front of him, who had avoided his eyes the whole time he was speaking. If Stiles didn't know better, he'd say he looked almost...sheepish. 

"If you don't want it then it's fine. It was a stupid idea anyway-"

"No!! No I love it! I'm just a bit …speechless!”

Derek finally looked at him, smirking as he did. 

“Stiles Stilinski speechless!! I never thought I’d see the day!”

“Oh ha ha, very funny. The Sourwolf is a comedian now.”

Derek smiled again, their regular banter a comfortable and safe common ground. But when he watched Stiles run his thumb over the wolf, just as he had done countless times since he had been given it, it slowly dropped from his face. Stiles also sobered slightly, but fondness and emotion was still clear in his honey eyes. 

“…I can’t take this Derek…it’s too important! I don’t…I’m not worth it. You should keep it.”

He tried putting it back in Derek’s hand but he only took it and placed it back in Stiles’ palm, closing his fingers over it and holding them there before finally looking up and meeting his eyes.

“Stiles, do I strike you as the kind of person who offers something like this without really meaning it? No? Good, because I’m not. I want you to have it. And if I hear you say you’re not worth it ever again I will rip your throat out. With my teeth. You just got out of the hospital after enduring kidnap and torture for us. You could have told him what he wanted to know at any point and it would have stopped! But you didn’t! You kept us all safe. You didn’t betray the pack. You didn’t…you didn’t betray me. I’m not used to that sort of loyalty. So now, well, I trust you. Completely. So when I see you hurting because of me, I have to try and do something about it. And this was the first thing that came to mind. I want to help you, like you’ve helped me.”

Stiles remembered he had just stared at the werewolf for what felt like hours, trying to process what he had said. Once he had, he’d looped the pendant over his head and dived at Derek, pulling his very shocked self into a hug.

Huffing out a tiny laugh, Stiles looked down at the necklace he’d never taken off since he had been given it and once again stroked the wolf for good luck. If there was ever a time he truly needed its protection, it was now.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Hello chucks :D Next chapter has arrived! I hope you lot realise that I'm jeopardising my degree for this fic :p But it's so worth it :p Hope you enjoy it and, if the world doesn't end of course, the next chapter will be up tomorrow :) Toodle pip :) 

 

It was a whole hour before his friends decided to surface. Any other time, Stiles would probably have gone mad at them. But he understood their need to be together in a safe place one last time before they stepped out into the unknown. He only had his pictures and memories to be with, but he knew if he had someone, that’s exactly what he would have done too. So instead he settled for a raised eyebrow and went to double check their bags. Surprisingly, he only had to repack a few things.

They all moved into the living room and sat down, as Stiles went into the kitchen and brought out their lunch. They would get to enjoy the last perishables they had. A tin of peaches.

Stiles shared them out between the three of them and let out some fairly pornographic moans as he ate them, their sweetness like a heavenly nectar after so much dry, tasteless rubbish. 

He tried not to think of it as their last meal.

Once they'd finished licking every last drop of peach juice up, Stiles directed them all over to the big pile of bags in the middle of the floor. Walking over, he knelt down in front of one of the bags and unzipped it, revealing an eclectic assortment of weapons.

"Okay guys, before we head out, we need to sort out who's having what. I've already got dibs on my baseball bat, so come take a look and pick whatever takes your fancy."

He spread the weapons out and stood back slightly, taking his bat with him. They didn’t have much and would definitely have to collect more along the way, but what they did have could still cause damage in the meantime. There were two long crowbars, a hammer, a few of the longest kitchen knives they had, the long silver dagger that Stiles got to keep after that one time involving pixies, and a monkey wrench. 

“Is this all we have?” asked Dan, as he looked skeptically at their horde.

“Well, seeing as we don’t have any machine guns lying around behind the couch pillows, this’ll have to do. So just pick something already Mr Fussy McMoanyPants.”

Giggling at her boyfriends’ new nickname, Lea picked up one of the crowbars and a knife, giving them an experimental stab and swipe before nodding and stepping back with them. Raising his eyes at his friend expectantly, Stiles motioned for Dan to choose too. Sighing, he also grabbed a crowbar and a knife, as well as the hammer. 

Rolling his eyes at his cheeky grin, Stiles grabbed the silver dagger as well and packed the remaining items back into the bag. 

“Okay, right, now that that’s done, I suppose it’s time.”

The knowledge that in a few moments, they were going to be stepping outside into the dangerous unknown momentarily threw Stiles, and from the pale faces of his friends and the way they gripped each others hand tightly, he knew it had hit them too. But as scary as it may be, it needed to be done. Every day they waited, the chance of failure was higher. The chance of death more certain. For them and the pack. They needed to move now.

Doing once last mental check of everything they needed to take, he looked around the apartment one last time. Whilst it wasn’t right for them, the place could be perfect for others, so he picked up the small sign he made earlier that he planned to put on the front door. It said the floor and room number, that the keys were under the matt and that it was safe and secure. Hopefully others could find refuge there.

Nodding to his friends, Stiles moved to the door and started slowly and quietly down the stairs, not wanting to attract any kind of attention, Lea and Dan doing the same behind him. After a few minuets of walking, they finally reached the front door. 

Stiles motioned for them to stay still and silent, as he stuck his head to the wood and tried to listen outside. It seemed to be quiet, but that could all change within moments of them stepping outside. 

Taking the chance though, he started to take down the barricade as silently as he could. Once it was done, he listened again, before finally adjusting the bags on his back and hefting his baseball bat, the others doing the same.

He rubbed his thumb over Derek’s necklace, steeled his courage and then opened the door.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N Hello dears :) Well, our very own apocalypse was a bit anticlimactic wasn't it!??! But hey ho, hopefully this fic will make up for it :p Enjoy my little chickens and please drop us a comment if you have anything to say :) Toodle pip :) 

 

Nothing. The street was empty. Well, it was trashed all to hell; glass smashed all over the ground, bodies half eaten and shrouded in flies, the remnants of burned out fires and just general destruction. But no infected.

Knowing it would be stupid to tempt fate, Stiles did not breath a sigh of relief or lower his guard. He knew this could all go to shit very, very quickly and he wouldn’t relax until he was with his family once more.

“Stay here. It seems deserted but sods law, we’ll get out there and they’re all just chilling round the corner. So I’ll go check it out first. Don’t make a sound, even if you see one. Just shut the door and retreat. Okay? Good. Wish me luck.”

He finished whispering to his friends, who nodded, albeit reluctantly, before he grabbed his bat securely in his hands and stepped out of the door.

His heart was pounding like mad in his chest, as he left the safety of the doorway, and this time he made sure to watch the ground like a hawk. The last thing he needed was to trip over another freaking pipe.

He made it right out into the middle of the street, the whole surrounding area totally deserted. All the signs seemed to be positive, but Stiles knew something just didn’t feel right. He knew the other shoe was going to drop any second.

Sometimes he just fucking hates being right. 

He’d just walked down the street they needed to go down to get to the jeep when he stumbled upon what must have been the entire fucking zombie population of the city! 

Seriously resisting the overwhelming need to either scream, cry or piss himself, Stiles backed ever so slowly away and prayed to every deity he’d ever heard of that they wouldn’t notice him. 

By the powers that be, they didn’t. He made it back to the doorway, his friends looking expectantly at him as he tried to master the use of his vocal cords.

“What? Come on Stiles!! What!? Are they there? Can we get to the jeep!!?” Lea hissed, grabbing his arm in a vice like grip, her normally sweet and gentle personality thrown out of the window as she practically tried to squeeze the answers out of him.

“Erm, well, yes and no really. It’s, erm, it’s sort of all clear, up until, well…”

“What Stiles!!?”

“Jesus Stilinski!! Spit it out!!”

“Erm, well, sort of until the giant horde of undead blocking the road.”

Well. That went down like a lead balloon.

“Oh God. We’re all going to die.”

Dan pulled Lea into a tight hug to prevent the imminent panic as Stiles tried to come up with one of his genius plans. In an ideal world it would be one that involved him discovering how to grow workable wings so they could fly all the way to Beacon Hills. But seeing as sudden onset mutation was probably not on the cards, he needed to come up with something doable quickly. 

Running his hand through his slightly grown out hair viciously, he wracked his brains for an idea whilst checking out the street in front of them incase the infected had followed him. 

It was this that made the light bulb flash on above his head. Alleyways!! The city was full of them, especially where they lived and he knew for a fact that there was one that would bypass the street where the zombies were!! 

Planning it all out in his head first, not wanting to get his friends hopes up, he decided to employ a handy trick he learnt of The Walking Dead. Whoever said T.V was a waste of time could kiss his ass!!

“Okay guys! I’ve got it!! But it ain’t gunna be pretty…”

And this was how, 15 minuets later, they found themselves out on the street in front of them, wearing lab coats and looking for a body to hack up and smear all over them. Thank God Lea was a science major and had lab coats and latex gloves lying around the apartment. 

Spotting a pretty rank body that looked like it’d been chewed on good and proper, he motioned them over to it quietly. If they were caught now then all this would be for nothing. 

“Okay, we know they can tell the undead and the alive apart through smell right, so make sure to seriously splatter yourselves in this. I don’t care if you think you’re gunna up chuck, I want it applied liberally.”

They both nodded, looking vaguely green already. He hadn’t even started hacking it up yet! He bet himself 5 bucks that Dan would be the first of them to loose those peaches.

“Okay guys, cover your faces. I’m going in.”

Covering his own face up with a piece of cardboard he’d found, he took aim and started laying into the body with his bat.

He honestly couldn’t think of any task that could be more disgusting than what he was doing. Seriously. It wasn’t just the smell, and dear sweet holy God it really was bad, but the fucking noises too!! He was really starting to reconsider that bet with himself.

“Oh God, I’m gunna be sick”

Or on second thoughts, maybe not. He mentally high fived himself and gave Dan the biggest most shit eating grin he could muster before getting hacking again.

After a few more hits from the bat, he decided that it was going to have to do, not wanting to chance being stuck here any longer than they needed to, especially when the bat wasn’t all that quiet.

“Right, I think it’s mashed up enough now. Dan? Want to come and check?”

More heaving was his answer, prompting another grin from Stiles. Hey, he might as well enjoy the little things. 

“Better man up dude, this is going all over you in a sec. Okay, I’ll go first. But we need to get this done quick. So come on Lea, help me get this all over me.”

Taking a deep breath and making sure his necklace was safely tucked under his clothes, he plunged his gloved hands into the pulped mess in front of him.

Dear Christ! If he thought hitting it with a bat was bad, it was nothing compared to actually feeling it between his fucking fingers!! Fighting the urge to throw up himself, he just couldn’t give Dan that satisfaction, he picked up a handful of bloody gore and smeared it on the front of his lab coat. 

It took a few minuets, but eventually they were all covered in the once humans insides. He really tried not to think about that too much though. 

“Urgh. Okay, yes this is grim, but just think! If we survive the ginormous zombie congregation and make it to the jeep, we can lose these things pronto! So think happy thoughts yeah! Good. Now, all we need to do is walk the walk! So just drag your legs a bit and try to look, ya know, like a member of the living dead!”

Giving their walks a few trial runs and deciding they were as good as they were gunna get, he picked up his bag, trying to avoid getting it full of gore and picking up his bat. 

Time to put his plan into action.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N Heya chucks :) I hope you're all okay and still enjoying the story :) Now, I have gone through this more carefully than normal because I wrote it just after I'd take my highest dose of morphine, so it had a shit ton of mistakes and generally just weird as fuck stuff in it :p So I think I've got them all, but if there's something spelt wrong or bad grammar or just general weird not making sense stuff, then please forgive me and point it out. Thanks :) Also, I would very much appreciate your thoughts on what you'd like doing with the OC's after this chapter (you'll see why I ask when you get to the end) So if you have a strong opinion either way on how you want it to go, just drop me a comment :) Ta very much and toodle pip :) 

 

They staggered slowly and cautiously along the debris covered road, glass crunching under their shoes until they came to the entrance of the street. As he’d already seen the huge congregation of infected, it didn’t affect him as badly as it did his friends. 

He heard Lea gasp and whimper quietly, saw Dan go white as a sheet and start shaking slightly. He could see how badly they wanted to scream and cling to each other. But they couldn’t. So instead they forced it down, making Stiles ever so proud of them. Maybe they did have a chance after all.

They came to a jerky halt just at the mouth of the street, the alleyway not too far in front of them. The only problem being the large number of fucking zombies that had split from the group and decided to loiter in front of it!! Shit. 

Subtly crowding up to Lea and Dan, Stiles decided he would have to chance talking, as non of them had developed the skill of mind reading just yet.

“Right, well, safe to say this wasn’t supposed to happen. So you’re going to have to trust me and grow a pair okay? We’re going to have to squeeze past them. I’m pretty sure the whole blood and guts marinade we’ve got going on here seems to be working, as we’re, ya know, still alive and all that. So if we keep doing as we’re doing and pray it doesn’t start raining, I think we should be okay. Just don’t think about it. Just do it. I promise I won’t let either of you die. Okay?”

They nodded, though obviously scared shitless. He didn’t blame them one bit, he was scared shitless too, but he’d long gotten used to pushing down his fear and doubts in order to get done what needed to be done. Whether that be firebombing an insane Alpha werewolf, playing bait for some seriously twisted pixies, or sneaking past a giant pack of ravenous zombies. Getting back home was far more important than freaking out. 

So, fighting the urge to break out into some sort of epic battle speech, he started to picture the faces of his pack and his dad, the faces he was doing this to get back too, and started to shuffle forward. 

This was without out doubt the scariest fucking thing that Stiles had ever done. He was so close to the zombies now that he could reach out and touch them with no trouble at all. 

He was also so close that if they figured out he was human and not a member of The Living Dead Club, he didn't have a cat in hells chance of not being torn apart. 

Subtly looking behind him, he saw that Lea and Dan were much further behind him, just on the outskirts of the group. They'd obviously let him go first to see what would happen. Fuckers.

Holy shit!!!!

He turned back around and nearly screamed. Literally about five centimeters away from his face was a rotting, snapping, blood dripping mouth.

He held his breath, stood stock-still and prayed. Like serious praying. To every deity ever. Even the fucking Flying Spaghetti Monster for Christ sake!

He just wished so much that he could stroke his necklace, a nervous habit he’d picked up when he was scared or worried that always helped calm him down and give him strength. 

So far though, all the zombie had done was lean more into him, the stench coming from it feeling like a punch in the face, and just staring at him. As though it suspected there was something not quite right about Stiles, but just couldn’t decide what it was. 

Luckily though, it didn’t seem to be one of the leveled up zombies he’d encountered the last time he’d left the apartment. Its eyes were empty and lifeless, not even the tiniest trace of intelligence in them. 

Knowing that being around it and the other zombies, all of who seemed to be getting closer every second, was a very bad idea, as eventually one of them would figure it out. And then he would be so screwed. Like, the most screwed anyone has ever been in the history of the universe. 

He backed away ever so slightly from the thing in front of him and shuffled to the side, bypassing it slowly. Holy God. He’d done it!

Breathing a sigh of relief when it didn’t follow him, he turned his attention back to the entrance of the alley that was so close now. He was almost safe.

Well, safe was probably not the word to use right now. But safer than he was now at least.

Finally reaching the mouth of the alley, he ducked inside, saw that there was no infected and then slumped back against the wall. Holy shit. He’d just walked through a zombie horde and made it out alive. Jesus H Christ! 

The Pack was never going to believe him.

He stayed as he was for a few moments, trying to get his breathing under control and his body to stop shaking, fear and adrenaline still coursing through his veins. Eventually though, he started to worry. Lea and Dan should be here by now. They weren’t that far behind him. They should be here.

Icy dread shot through him. Oh please god no. Don’t let them be dead. He’d promised them! 

Moving back to the entrance, he stuck his head out slowly. 

Shit. Oh fucking shit.

Right where he last saw his friends, was a huge congregation of the infected, all crowded around something and more trying to get closer. 

Stiles’ legs went weak as he imagined just what they were all trying to get too. He felt like his throat was closing up and he could hardly breathe. 

But he had to know for sure. If there was even the tiniest chance that they were okay, then he was damn well going to take it. 

Moving back out onto the street, he stumbled over to the group, probably faster than he should have, but it’s not like the zombies were focused on him.

He made it to the outside of the horde, trying to peek through their decaying bodies to see what they were all looking at. 

He couldn’t see anything.

Refusing to leave till he new for sure, he started to slowly push through, sliding between rotting bodies and fighting the urge to throw up. 

Finally he came to the center, just one more row of zombies before he could see what was in the middle. Dread crawling under his skin, making him feel like he was moving through treacle, he pushed through the last few infected in his way. 

Oh God.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N So sorry this took longer than normal to do! Though, it is midnight for me, so it could actually still be on time for you guys :p Anyway, here is the newest chapter :D It's not as long as I was planning it to be, but I've had a busy as fuck day (bloody Christmas shopping -.-) so didn't have enough time to spend on it as I wanted. But the next will make up for it :) hope you enjoy guys and as always, your comments/kudos/bookmarks and subscriptions are the air I breathe. I love you all. Toodle pip :) 

 

They were...okay. That...that should be impossible. They should be dead! 

Holy shit!!

Stiles tried to get his legs to stop shaking, as he looked down at his friends on the floor, alive and whole, pressed tightly together next to a body that they'd half pulled over them.

Genius.

He could see the sheer terror in their eyes as they mouthed, "help" over and over again to him. He just had no idea how.

God knows how, but some of the infected must have smelt or sensed them, advanced and then drawn a crowd. But then when they hid under the body, it must have vanished, leaving the horde of infected seriously confused.

He could try and crouch down next to them in order to pull them up, but that would probably set all of the others off in thinking he was eating them and making them join in. And there would just be no coming back from that.

Unless it was actually as a zombie of course.

So, the only possible route open to them was distraction. If Stiles somehow managed to draw them away, it would give Lea and Dan time to get to the alley. 

It was the only way.

Giving them a nod, he mouthed "get to the alley" at them and, after receiving a nod of understanding, moved back to edge of the group and kept going until he had a decent head start on the staggering infected. 

Thank fuck this wasn't 28 Days Later. He'd be screwed in three seconds flat if they could run like them.

He moved over to a twisted iron railing and held his bat firmly. He seriously hoped that this wouldn't be the last act of his life, he really did have to get home; see his Dad, his Pack…Derek. He still had to make Derek smile after all. 

Trying not to analyze why he always thoughts of Derek most prominently when in life threatening situations, he lifted the bat and brought it smack bang down on the rail, a loud clang echoing out over the street.

Oh holy fuck.

Every single head turned towards him. 

He ran.

They followed.

He dodged around burnt out cars, jumped over fallen debris, heard broken glass crunch under his feet. He was terrified. 

Looking behind him, he was both relived and terrified to see the infected behind him. Relived because they were following him not his friends and terrified because, well, they were following him.

He was faster though. Much faster. Thank God he'd been on a super strict training regime with the Pack, most of which consisted of running through the forest with them, which meant he was very able to out run a few reanimated decaying bodies. Well, it was more like a whole shit ton of reanimated decaying bodies, but hey, he wasn’t splitting hairs. 

But what then? Eventually something would happen. He'd get tired or trip or run into a dead end. He had to think.

Seeing a fork in the street in front of him, he wracked his brain for where both of the roads led. He dodged behind a couple of industrial bins, the infected still pretty far behind him but gaining, and remembered that one definitely lead away from the main city center, and the other would loop back around. This could work.

Checking on the zombie’s progress and seeing that he would have to hurry, he took his shoe off and got one of his socks. He needed a way to lure them down the other street and this should work. 

Grabbing a decent sized stone, he put it in the sock and tied the whole thing up. Putting his shoe back on and being careful not to be seen, he stood slightly and hurled the rock-weighted sock as far down the road as he could. 

The sock, as it was one he’d been wearing for a whole week now, would seriously smell of him and scream ‘HUMAN HUMAN LOVELY TASTY LIVING HUMAN’ as it hadn’t been covered in guts. Hopefully it would be enough to draw them away from him.

Getting ready to run, he peeped over the bins and then instantly dropped back down again. 

The smell of human must have made them speed up, the desire to have fresh meat driving them on. As it was now, they were just in front of him, smelling which way the running buffet had gone. 

He just hoped they’d go after the sock and not him. As close to that sock as he was, he had no issues with throwing it under the bus.

He heard moving and risked another peek over the bins. 

Thank sweet holy Jesus. They were moving on.

Sinking back down to the floor, he rested his head back against the bin, looking up at a sky that was far too bright and cheery to go along with what was happening below it.

Actually no. This was perfect. The last thing he needed to do was to jinx it and make it rain. He’d seen how shit that went on The Walking Dead and was in no hurry to experience it first hand. Blue skies and sunshine was good. Lovely even. He could possibly get a tan before seeing the pack. He bloody needed one, he was seriously too pale.

Focus.

Looking back over, he noticed they’d all started moving up the street, leaving enough of a space for him to hopefully run and double back to meet up with his friends. 

The only problem however, would be the timing. If he left his hiding place too early, they could notice him. If he left it too late, they would already have found the sock and would probably come back the way they came. Neither of these would end very well at all.

Fuck it. He’d have to go now and run like the hounds of hell were on his heels.

Or ravenous zombies. Either or.

Gritting his teeth and deciding that he’d probably used up his life’s worth of prayer requests by now, he stood up and legged it.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N So sorry I'm late with this one!!! I was busy all day with getting stuff ready for tomorrow, then I got distracted by THE SHEER FUCKING EVILNESS THAT WAS THE MERLIN FINALE!!! SERIOUSLY!!! I CRIED LIKE YOU WOUDLN'T BELIEVE BECAUSE IT WAS SO PERFECT BUT SO AGONISING!!! URGH MY SOUL IS STILL SUFFERING!!! Ahem. Yeah. It was that emotional. So I had to get over that before I got on with this :p It's a longer chapter this time, but might not have moved the story along as much as I had planned. I'm really sorry about that, I know it's probably getting to be a problem now. But as I'm updating everyday, sometimes they need to be a bit fillery when I don't have a lot of time. The next one will definitely move shit along though, I promise. But I'm unsure yet wether I'll have time to post it tomorrow. I'll do my best though, I swear :) But if not, we'll be back in business on Boxing Day :) So yeah, I hope you all have a really wonderful Christmas, I love you all and I hope you enjoy this, even if it might not move on as much as you'd like. Toodle pip my dears :) 

 

Buildings with smashed windows, empty and burnt out husks of cars, ‘the end is neigh’ signs, bodies. They all flew past him as he sprinted down the street. His lungs were burning and his head spinning, pure adrenalin racing through his body and urging it on. 

As he ran, he saw a zombie ambling along a bit further up the street. He couldn’t stop now though, so he surged forward, hefted his bat and swung it with all his strength as he ran.

It’s entire head snapped back; its decaying throat splitting open as it bent backwards.

Damn that was badass. 

Grinning, he continued running, before skidding to a stop in front of the alley.

They weren’t there.

Despite not thinking it was physically possible any more, icy dread flooded him once again as he made his way slowly down the shadowy alley, bat ready. He heard rustling at the other end behind some bins and cardboard boxes. He slowly approached before flinging himself in front of it with his bat raised to beat the living shit out of any zombie that might be lurking there. He was on a serious role today so they better watch their undead ass.

It was however, Lea and Dan. Stiles aborted the swing last minute, spinning around ridiculously to avoid braining them and making himself trip over his feet and land on his ass in the process.

“Jesus Christ I though you were one of them!” he hissed, hand clutching at his racing heart. Seriously, how he hadn’t had a freaking heart attack by now was beyond him! Maybe it had just gotten used to it from all the times Derek had snuck in through his bedroom window and scared the life out of him.

“Oh my God you’re okay! When you took so long to come back, we thought…we thought you’d died!”

Poor Lea however, was not used to stuff like this, and looked very much like she was about to have one hell of a nervous breakdown, tears streaming down her face and her whole body shaking. Dan didn’t look much better, but he was holding it together for her sake. 

“Sorry guys…I had…to lead…them away…” he wheezed, leaning against the wall and bending with his hands on his knees, trying desperately to catch his breath. Jesus Christ, bring out the iron lung!

“Right,” he said, once he could breathe somewhat properly again. “We need to go now, before they come back. I don’t think my trick will distract them for long. So, follow me and move quickly but silently. Become one with the shadows! Be as silent as the breeze!”

The eyebrow raises he received for that were nowhere near the calibre he was used to, so he just smirked at them instead.

Pulling them both to their somewhat shaky feet, he then led the way out of the alley. He stuck his head around the wall to survey the scene. It was deadly still; absolutely nothing was moving, just the odd dead body strewn across the street that he tried not to focus on. So far so good then. 

Moving out of the safety of the dark alley, he slowly moved out into the open. Luck may actually be on their side right now, it was totally deserted and there looked to be a clear line of approach across the square and down the street to the car park where his beloved jeep was waiting. 

“Okay guys, keep close alright. And stay alert. Constant vigilance!!”

Jesus Christ, his references were just wasted on those two. 

Rolling his eyes, he lead the way, bat constantly ready but so hoping he wouldn’t need it. They were literally a few minutes away from safety, couldn’t the world just cut him a tiny bit of slack for once?

Apparently freaking not.

“Oh fuck!! Four zombies over there and two on that side. Speed it up, we need to move now!” he hissed behind him urgently, gripping his bat hard in his hands.

They started legging it across the square, the zombies coming up the streets on either side of them. They couldn’t spare the time it would take to kill them though, or take the risk. They were far enough away that they could outrun them. Probably. Hopefully.

They were finally across the square and making their way through the final street that lead to the car park when three more zombies appeared in front of them.

“Oh for fucks sake! Guys, pick one and aim for the heads! And try not to slow down!”

Taking the lead, he sped up and took a running swing at the middle ones head, sending it snapping back but making it’s arms swing out and hit him in its final desperate efforts before death, hands clawing at his lab coat with sharp, blood drenched nails and sending him barreling into the zombie on the left.

They fell together, the other zombie coming to land on top of him.

Stiles was in no way shamed to say he screamed like a five year old. Anybody would when faced with an undead monster with a blood dripping mouth and snapping jaws literally five centimeters away from their face!

He pushed at the thing on top of him with all his might. His back arching off the floor and his legs flailing wildly as he tried to reach the silver dagger residing in its sheath under his lab coat. He could hear the other two fighting off the other two zombies and could see more getting closer every second, which meant that they couldn’t be any help to him. He needed to get that dagger now. 

The only problem being that in order to get it, he’d have to let go of the zombie with one hand to do it. And if he did that, it was very likely he wouldn’t be able to hold off its frenzied efforts one handed. Shit.

The other advancing infected were so close now. It was now or never. Pushing at the zombie as hard as he could, he let go with one hand and stuck it into his lab coat, feeling around for the sheath attached to his belt loops. 

His arm was straining with the effort of holding the zombie off, who had seemed to sense that the resistance against it was weaker and had doubled its efforts, inching closer and closer. He couldn’t hold it off much longer.

Finally! He gripped the dagger around its handle and pulled, tugging it straight out of his coat and plunging it right through the side of the zombie’s head. It struggled momentarily, jaws still snapping wildly in its death throes, before it collapsed dead on top of him. Or re dead, as it were. 

Pulling the dagger out, he pushed its stinking corpse off of him and jumped up, turning around just in time to stab another advancing infected through the eye socket and watched it fall twitching to the ground.

He should probably be worried about how much he actually enjoyed killing these things. It wasn’t the actual act of killing that he liked, just the thought of getting revenge on the things that had killed and turned so many innocent people. Possibly even his family. Logically he knew that these actually were once the innocent people, but in the middle of a fight, that logic just disappeared, leaving only the base instinct to destroy them in its wake. 

He turned back to his friends and saw one sneak up behind a preoccupied Lea, so he jumped forward and stabbed his dagger straight through the back of its skull, moving to the side quickly to avoid it falling onto him just as Dan finished the final one, hitting it in the side of its head with his hammer, its skull crunching under the force. 

They all came together quickly, breathing hard and practically buzzing with adrenalin, their racing hearts beating manically. But they were alive. Surely that was a good sign? They’d gotten past a whole horde of them unscathed and managed to fight off a handful of them relatively quickly. Stiles had to believe that this was a good omen, a sign that they could and would make it to Beacon Hills. 

He never said it to his friends, always wanting to keep them positive, but he was always terrified that this would be too much for them, that they would all be overwhelmed and slaughtered by the infected and never make it home. That he would fail and never see his dad and Pack again. 

He always refused to let this fear take over him and become his expectation, focusing instead on his sheer fucking will to get home, but it was there non the less. 

Drawing himself out of his fears, he quickly scanned around for any more infected and, upon seeing none, once again set off, leading them all towards his jeep and, hopefully, freedom. Freedom to escape this infested city. Freedom to make a run for their lives. Freedom to go home and find safety. 

They would make it. He would ensure it. And the Pack damn well better be waiting for him when he got there.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N Hello my lovelies! I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas Day :) I know I did!! I got a gorgeous recurve bow and a quiver full of purple arrows with pink and white flights!! Argh! In love xD But enough of that, here's what you're really here for :) And seeing as I missed posting on Christmas, I'm going to post two chapters up this time :D So here's the first and the second will be along any second now :) I hope you enjoy it chickens, toodle pip :)

 

With every step Stiles took, jogging down the street that led to the car park, he prayed that there would be no more interruptions. That they could just get into the jeep and drive off into the metaphorical sunset.

He was finally beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, that would actually happen; as the car park came into view in front of them, his beloved baby at the far end and its blue paint job practically shining in the sunlight. 

He had never been so happy to see something in his entire life! And that included the time he saw the entire Pack in swim shorts and bikinis swimming in the lake! And considering how gorgeous he knew his Pack to be, that was really saying something!

He should have known it would be too easy though. 

As they ran into the car park, probably too distracted with how close they finally were to leaving, four zombies stepped out from behind some cars a little way in front of them.

Stiles knew from the very second he laid eyes on them, that these were not the normal infected they had been facing since leaving the apartment. They were the kind he encountered in his first trip out. They were the ones that were just…more. They were quicker and more violent, hardly decayed at all and most of all, they were not mindless. 

He didn’t know if they could think as such, but they were certainly not empty and ruled only by their instinct to kill and eat any living thing they came across, blindly chasing after them no matter what. No, these appeared to have the ability to resist that urge initially and they almost seemed to plan how to take the humans in front of them down. 

Doing just that, the infected seemed to close ranks in front of them, almost daring Stiles and his friends to try and get past them. This alone was pretty freaking terrifying, but what was worse was the way they didn’t advanced forward as the others do. Stiles was right, the definitely weren’t completely overwhelmed by their hunger and desire to tear any living thing apart. They just stood there, almost like they were waiting. It made Stiles’ legs go weak.

For the first time, he honestly couldn’t even think. He was so scared and filled with a sense of inescapable doom, that any of the plans that would normally have already begun teeming through his mind were simply not there. 

He honestly didn’t know how to get out of this one.

“Stiles…Stiles what do we do? Come on, you always have a plan mate. What should we do?!”

He closed his eyes at Dan’s words, failure flooding him like a tsunami. He always had a plan. For anything. That was his skill! His special power! His Pack might have their super strength, healing and senses, Allison might have her hunter skills and Lydia might have brains and general fierceness, but he had his plans. He could think and talk his way out of most anything. 

But how the fuck do you talk zombies into letting you go? That’s right. You don’t. And how do you come up with a plan if your mind has abandoned you!? You don’t!

He’d let them all down. He would be the reason they died and the reason his dad and his Pack would never see him again. They’d be just left waiting for him to return. Knowing logically what must have happened but always wondering ‘what if?’ 

His dad would never move on, would never be able to accept it because he didn’t know for sure. And his Pack would probably feel the same. 

At his silence, Dan seemed to shrink, the weight of their hopeless situation pressing down on him. He turned to Lea and pulled her to him, holding her tightly and turning her head away from the zombies in front of them, whispering words of comfort into her ear and kissing her head in between each one. 

He was glad they both had each other at a time like this, but he envied them too. They at least would die together, whereas he would be alone. The only people he cared about being far away. 

Burning anger raged through him then, sudden and unexpected. There was no damn way he would go out without at least trying to fight. He might not have a plan, but he had his bat, he had his dagger and he had his sheer burning fury and desire to get home. 

If those infected assholes thought he would go down easily then they could fucking think again. 

He put his bag down on the floor and took off his lab coat. It was obviously not fooling these leveled up zombies in front of him and it restricted his movement. He tightened his grip on the bat and made sure his dagger was easily reachable. If this was to be his last stand, then he wanted to do as much damage as he possibly could before he went.

Dan noticed what he was doing and surprised Stiles by pulling away from Lea slightly and saying something to her that he couldn’t hear but that made her nod, dry her eyes and drop her own bag and lab coat, Dan following.

Stiles could only stare in surprise. He knew his friends were strong, but he really thought they’d decided that if this really was the end, they’d rather go out holding each other. But apparently not. Apparently they were just as prepared and determined to fight at he was. 

This filled him with strength. He wasn’t alone in his desire to fight, to not give in no matter the odds. He knew he always picked his friends carefully and it was times like this that backed it up. He would be proud to introduce them both to his Pack. 

Straightening his back and holding his head up high, Stiles addressed his friends. Because he might not have an escape plan, but he damn well had an attack plan. 

“Dan, Lea, if this is it, then it’s been a pleasure knowing you. But those monsters can think again if they want us to just role over and accept it. So Lea, you take that one, you take that one Dan, I’ll take the one on the end and we’ll all just have to watch out for the fourth and take it out if we can. But be careful. These aren’t like the others. They’re quicker, stronger and don’t seem to be mindless. They’ll do whatever they can to take us down, so we have to do the same.   
I’m sorry I don’t have a better plan then this. But it’s all we’ve got. So be brave and fight like you’ve never fought before!”

Feeling like a king giving his army a battle speech, he raised his bat and charged the line of zombies.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N Here you go m'dear :) The second chapter I promised you :) but beware, you might not thank me for it...

 

Stiles couldn’t even think. His mind had been wiped clean through fear, only leaving pure instinct. He wondered if this was how his Pack felt under the sway of the moon. His only thought, his driving instinct was to kill. To survive. 

He met the first zombie with a swing of his bat, catching it on the top of its head as it ducked, arm slashing for his stomach and sending him jumping back to avoid it. 

He heard his friends fighting somewhere behind him, but couldn’t take his eyes from the thing in front of him to see how they were fairing. He just hoped to God that they’d taken his warning about these infected seriously and hadn’t underestimated them. 

He wasn’t able to think on it any further though, as the zombie lunged, nearly catching him again with its claw like hands. Hands that would gut him in a second.

He jumped back again, nearly tripping over his feet in his haste to move out of its reach. He righted himself quickly, swinging his bat with the momentum and catching it right on the side of its head, sending it staggering.

He was dismayed to see it had hardly slowed it down, instead seeming to make it even more pissed off. It jumped forward with truly terrifying speed, appearing right in front of him in what felt like seconds, its twisted, dead face right in his, its jaw snapping in anticipation of tasting his flesh.

He let out a shout of terror and fell backwards, landing on his back. He had seconds to realize that he was going to end up in the same situation as before; but this time the zombie on top of him would be more than capable of resisting his feeble attempts to push it off and it would kill him. No doubt about it. 

The knowledge spurred him on and in the split second before it descended on him, he dropped his bat, grabbed his dagger and held it, spearing the zombie right through its chest as it fell upon him. 

It let out a terrible shriek, its rotting breath making him gag as it still tried to get to him, the initial wound not seeming to be enough. With strength he didn’t know he possessed, he forced the dagger down through its chest, cracking through its ribcage and finally killing it. 

He pushed its heavy corpse off him and jumped up, grabbing his bat in one hand and his dagger in the other just in time to see Dan dive in front of Lea, pushing her out of the way and taking the vicious swipe to the stomach that was meant for her.

“NO!!”

Stiles’ whole world narrowed down to the sight of his friend clutching at his stomach, blood pouring through his hands and a look of shock, pain and above all else, sadness etched on his face. 

Burning rage the like of which he hadn’t felt before swept through him and he ran towards them, stabbing the zombie straight through the back of its head, killing it before it had chance to notice him.

He pulled it out and rushed forward, catching Dan as he started to fall backwards. He sank back into Stiles’ arms, his legs unable to support his weight any longer. He saw Lea start to move towards them, horror plain on her face, but was intercepted by one of the two remaining infected, the other slowly circling Stiles and Dan, waiting for them to make a move or for a chance to descend upon the injured one.

Dan reached his hand up and pulled Stiles’ head close and spoke into his ear.

“You have…to get…her out…of here. Leave…me. I’m done…for. Just run. Keep…her…safe. The zombies…they should…come…for me. Don’t…let her…watch. Go. Keep…her…safe.”

Stiles’ heart broke at his friends strained words. He knew exactly what would happen if he left Dan defenseless. The infected would descend on him and strip the flesh from his bones. And Dan was wiling to let that happen. Because it would save Lea.

Stiles knew that no matter what they did now, Dan wouldn’t make it. He would die from his wound and turn, which would mean either he or Lea would have to kill him. He knew Lea wouldn’t do it. Couldn’t do it. And Stiles, he wasn’t actually sure what he would do. 

He knew leaving Dan was the only way. As much as it tore through him and as much as it would make Lea hate him. He knew it was the only thing they could do.

He saw Lea fighting with the other zombie and knew she couldn’t hold it off much longer. It was too strong and she was too distracted. Her heart wasn’t in it, eyes constantly darting over to look at Dan. He had no choice.

Nodding, tears welling in his eyes, he hugged Dan close.

“I will. I promise I will. I’ll protect her. I’m so, so sorry Dan. I’m so sorry. Just…just close your eyes. Don’t fight it. Go to sleep, it’ll be okay.”

He whispered to Dan in a broken voice as he lowered him to the ground. If he had to leave him there at the zombie’s mercy, he just hoped Dan would die before they fell upon him. 

If he were a stronger person, maybe he would have put an end to Dan’s suffering himself. But he wasn’t. He didn’t think he could do it. 

The look of relief on Dan’s face as he realized that Stiles was going to do as he said nearly made him break down, a sob ripping itself from him. He gripped Dan’s hand tightly in his own, the lump in his throat too large to allow him to say goodbye. He just hoped that he could convey it through that gesture alone, before he let it go and stepped back, grabbing his fallen weapons and running towards Lea. 

He didn’t look back as the circling zombie descended on him with a shriek.

He ran at the other zombie, tackling it to the ground and bashing it in the head with his bat. He knew it wouldn’t kill it, but it would distract it long enough to dive towards Lea, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her towards the bags, grabbing two and throwing them over his shoulder.

The final zombie recovered from its daze and jumped up, but it ran towards where the other infected was tearing into Dan.

That was when she saw it.

“NO!! NO DAN! DAAAN!! STILES LET ME GO! LET ME GO!!!”

Pulling her towards him, he plunged his dagger back in its sheath and wrapped his now free arm around her waist, pulling her away from Dan’s body with all his strength and trying desperately to not let her see.

She screamed at him and fought, hitting his arm and shouting for her boyfriend. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Lea! But we have to go! There’s nothing we can do! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

He repeated the same words over and over, but none of it made a blind bit of difference. She still fought with all she had to get back to Dan; unable to accept he was dead or simply not caring and wanting to go the same way.

Whether it was through his wish to honor Dan’s sacrifice and his promise to care for Lea, or his own selfish desire to not have to do this alone, it didn’t matter. He refused to let her go. Instead, he managed to half drag half carry her across the remaining stretch of car park before finally reaching the jeep.

He dropped his bags and his bat on the floor, holding onto a still struggling Lea with one arm as he dug in his pocket with the other for the keys. Finding them, he flung the passenger door open and picked Lea up.

She kicked and hit him repeatedly, tears streaming down her face and her voice starting to get raspy and broken with her screams. He wanted to do the same, but he had made a promise and he was damn well going to see it through.

Ignoring her attempts to make him let go, he through her into the car, slamming the door shut and locking it so she couldn’t get out as he gathered their things.

She pounded at the window as he picked up the bags and his bat, running around to his side. He knew all of the screaming would definitely have attracted any zombie within hearing range, so time was of the essence right now. They had to get out of there. They hadn’t come this far, hadn’t lost Dan just to die at the last hurdle.

Unlocking the car, he threw their things in the back and grabbed Lea’s arm as he got in, stopping her from trying to get out of her door. Slamming his, he locked them again and let her go, as he jammed the keys into the ignition and stepped on it. 

They were getting out of there, but as he saw Lea slump down in her seat, breaking down completely, he mourned the price they’d had to pay for it.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N Hey guys!! Sorry there wasn't an update yesterday!! I spent the whole day sick and in pain, so I was off my tits on morphine and hooked up to me tens machine, which if any of you have ever been on one or knows that it is, makes it literally impossible to write when it's on your arm :p It was jolting and twitching all over the place!! So yeah, had to make up for it today. Sorry if this isn't all that good, it seemed to be more of a filler to me, a chance to reflect on what has happened and think on old times. But I hope you like it regardless :) As always, the comments and kudos I receive, as well as the subscriptions and bookmarks, literally make my day :) They are the very air I breathe! So thank you ever so much and continue to feel free to speak your mind of the story, whether it be good or bad. I love to hear what you think :) Anyway, enjoy my dears, toodle pip :) 

 

Stiles had been driving for nearly an hour; the only sound being that of Lea's sobs, finally trailing off when she finally into a fitful sleep due to exhaustion, leaving him alone in silence with only his thoughts for company. 

Dan's death ran through his head over and over, a needle stuck on a record. He just couldn't block out the sight of him clutching his stomach, blood pouring through his fingers and covering them both. Stiles remembered the feel of it, hot and sticky, staining his hands red. He felt like he'd never be able to wash it off.

His guilt was overwhelming. It spread through his body like weeds, wrapping around his bones tight and unmovable. It crawled up his throat and tightened its grip, suffocating him. He was constantly a few seconds away from the mother of all panic attacks but he just gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could, his knuckles pearly white and his jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. But he needed to hold on. Needed to hold himself tight. If he didn't he was afraid he'd loose it. And loose himself. 

He had to focus on the one thing that mattered. Getting home safe. He could freak out and mourn when they weren't at such a risk of being gruesomely killed and eaten. That didn't stop him wanting too though.

Stiles once again lost himself to his thoughts, driving down the mostly deserted highway on autopilot, only looking out for either zombies or survivors. So far he'd only seen bodies. 

Eventually the gnawing in his stomach became too much, and though the very thought of eating made him feel sick, he knew he needed to keep his strength up. Lea was in no shape to protect herself and she too needed to regain her energy.

There was nothing around him but deserted highway, only abandoned cars and a few scattered bodies littering it. He decided that he would pull over, as this was a good a place as any for them both to rest for a bit. It had clear lines of sight on all approaches so nothing should be able to sneak up on them and he could also rummage through the cars to see what he could find. 

They were low on food, as the three of them had distributed the supplies equally in their bags and Stiles, in his rush to get Lea to safety, had been forced to leave Dan's bag behind. Now they only had the breakfast bars, the six bottles of water and the trail mix he'd put in his, the four packets of crisps and jerky Lea had in hers and thankfully, the two bottles of alcohol he'd squeezed into the weapons bag. But that probably wouldn't be enough to last them till Beacon Hills, so any supplies they could pilfer from the abandoned cars would be very much appreciated.

Pulling over once he reached an emptier stretch of road, he turned to Lea and put a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her.

"Lea. Lea wake up, we've stopped. We need to eat and get our strength back. We can have a look through these cars as well and see what we can find. Okay?"

"Fine."

Her voice was scratchy and ever so quiet, obviously raw from screaming and crying. But the worst thing was how dead it sounded, totally flat and void of all emotion. And her eyes. They were just empty.

His heart went out to her, it truly did, and the weeds inside him pulled tighter still. He wondered when they would get so tight that they crushed him.

Squeezing her shoulder gently, he moved away and got out of his car, stretching his aching muscles. It turns out that battling zombies was just as strenuous, if not more so, than wrestling with werewolves. He hadn't felt this sore since his first trip out with the wolves on a full moon.

God that had been an amazing night. The betas had finally learnt to fully control themselves and after much pestering, Derek finally caved and let him come out with them. 

They spent the afternoon at the new Hale house just hanging out around a small bonfire, eating snacks and the steaks Derek was cooking on a grill. The sight of Derek-I will tear your throat out-Hale cooking was one Stiles never wanted to forget. 

On the one hand it was utterly hilarious, but on the other it was just incredibly lovely; watching the Alpha cook for his pack, his face losing a lot of its tension and almost managing to look pleased when they all devoured the food and complimented his cooking. And they freaking well should too, it was awesome!

As the sun started sinking further in the sky, turning the world into shades of gold and red, they all piled around the bonfire to chat and wait for the moons appearance. Stiles had plonked himself down next to the Alpha and spent more time than he'd ever admit just watching him. The firelight flickered across his face, softening it more than he'd ever seen, as he stared into its burning depths or watched his pack.

Stiles remembered asking if the fire bothered him and Derek just turned to him and stared, and from the expression on his face, Stiles was pretty sure that it was the first time he'd ever been asked that. The Pack was great and everything, but they were hardly the most intuitive bunch and often too wrapped up in their own dramas to notice anyone else's. 

The fact Derek kept everything so deep under wraps certainly didn't help either, but it didn't fool Stiles. He knew all too well about hiding your fears and emotions under a mask. Granted, their masks were the complete opposite of each other’s; Derek's being anger or lack of emotion and Stiles' being sarcasm and eccentricity. Both, while being a genuine part of their personalities, are what they present to the world like an exoskeleton. 

He’d just stayed sat where he was, looking into Derek’s hazel eyes as he probably decided whether to answer him or, more likely, punch him in the throat. To Stiles’ surprise, he did in fact answer. He told him that it still scared him everyday. Whether it was a tiny candle or a roaring inferno. But he always forced himself to look at it because he owed it to his family. 

At the time, he wasn’t sure exactly what Derek had meant, or why he felt the need to do it. But he knew that it wasn’t right for him to question it or respond in any way. He and Derek, as he’d been shown many times since they started to become closer, were actually very similar, and Stiles knew that when he revealed anything about himself, especially when it was to do with his mom, he never wanted people to dwell on it or talk about it. So he wouldn’t do that to Derek. He would allow him to reveal what he wanted, let him know that he took it in and appreciated the gravity of it, but not force him to talk about it any further. 

So he’d simply squeezed his shoulder, smiled at him and then made a joke about one thing or another, something stupid and pointless. And he was almost positive the look he got was one of gratitude and also, understanding. 

They stayed sat close next to each other until the sun had set fully and the moon took over the sky. The werewolves all shifted and ran off into the forest, giddily jumping and knocking each other over, looking more like overgrown puppies than werewolves.

Derek had stayed behind with him and asked if he was sure he’d be okay running with them. Stiles responded by smirking as wide as he could and taking off into the forest as fast as he could, shouting “catch me if you can!” over his shoulder. 

The rest of the night passed in a blur of running through the beautiful moonlit forest, werewolves chasing him or flanking him, jumping out at him and tackling him into the forest floor or speeding in front of him and nearly causing him to fly arse over tit. 

But always there was a huge black wolf with glowing red eyes that followed him everywhere. 

God, he needed to stop thinking about the Pack right now. And Derek. Thinking about him always seemed to stir up feelings he just didn’t have the time to deal with yet. Maybe when he was home and safe. Maybe then.

Moving round to the boot, he took out both of their bags and put them on the floor in front of the jeep. This way, they could either lean back against it as they ate and still have a pretty clear view around, or sit on the bonnet. Either way, as long as they were as comfy as they were going to get and had a good view of the surrounding area then it would do. 

Straightening, he looked through the windscreen. Lea hadn’t moved an inch. She was still sat with her head against the window, eyes open and unmoving, staring off into her own world. 

Sighing, the weeds moving under his skin once more, he moved to her side and opened the door. She didn’t even react. She seemed so consumed with grief that she’d just shut down, unable to deal with the external world.

It was like his dad all over again.

Pain shot through his body as his brain finally made the connection. She was behaving exactly as his dad had after loosing his wife. Stiles remembered when they finally went home, their house feeling strange after spending most, if not all of their time at the hospital, and also a shocking reminder of the woman they had lost. His dad couldn’t cope with it and he had just shut off, leaving Stiles to look after the both of them.

He didn’t blame or resent his dad for that in anyway. The relationship between his mom and dad was the stuff stories are made of. They’d hated each other at first, both having gone to the same high school, but eventually they learned they had more in common than they thought and they ended up falling in love. They were together from that day on and just fit so perfectly together; that he knew his dad would never be fully whole again. They should have been together forever. 

Knowing that there was nothing Stiles could do to draw her out of her head before she was ready, he would do as he did for his dad and care for her body instead.

With that in mind, the gently helped her from the jeep and led her over to where their bags were. He knew that there was no way he’d get her up on the bonnet, so he spread one of his tshirts out on the floor and sat her down, her back leaning against the front of the car. 

Checking that they were still alone on the highway, he crouched down and rummaged through the bags and pulled out a bottle of water and the pack of jerky, deciding it would probably give them more energy than what little else they had. God, he seriously hoped he could find some more supplies in the abandoned cars. 

Rationing the jerky out, he put some aside for himself and gave Lea two portions of it, knowing she needed it more than he did, and then put what was left away for later. 

He managed to prompt her into eating, though she did so mechanically, and then got her to drink half of the water as well. That was as good as they were going to get, so leaving her sat against the jeep, hoping the sunlight and fresh air would do her some good, he hopped up onto the bonnet and dug into his own meal. Well, it was more like two mouthfuls really, but it would do.

He lay back on the bonnet and looked up at the sky. He was beyond exhausted, but he knew he couldn’t fall asleep, not until they found somewhere safe. Still, the longer he sat in the sun, his aching muscles finally getting some release, the closer he got to drifting off, his eyes drooping lower and lower. 

Jolting up, he nearly catapulted himself off the bonnet. He needed to move or else he’d be asleep, and then God only knows what could happen. He needed to go search the cars, find some supplies and then get them moving again. He’d sleep when they were better defended. 

Climbing down, he checked on Lea, seeing her in exactly the same state as he left her. 

“Lea. Lea you have to listen to me okay? I need to search the cars, so I want you to get back in the jeep. I can’t protect you whilst I’m looking and I don’t think you’re up to fighting yet. I’m pretty sure nothing is going to happen but it’s just in case. Okay? Come on then, let’s get you up.”

He helped her to her feet and led her to the passenger side, practically having to pick her up to get her inside. Making sure she had her weapon to hand, he put her bag back in the boot and locked the jeep. 

Shouldering his bag, bat in hand just in case, he set off to search the cars, hoping for once they’d avoid trouble and that his search would yield more than just bodies and reminders of how the world has changed.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N Heya my lovelies :) Here's a long one for ya :) I warn you though, it's not a happy one...Enjoy m'dears, toodle pip :) 

 

So far he’d searched through five cars and had found a grand total of nothing. Nada. Sweet FA. This was so much more fruitful in all the zombie flics he’d watched! But no! For him it had to be a scorching hot day, searching through empty cars and constantly being slapped in the face by the smell of rotting bodies in the sunshine. All in all it was pretty fucking grim.

Deciding to just walk a bit further up the highway to where another clump of cars sat, he set off, bag digging into his aching shoulder and his hand sweaty where it was wrapped around his bat. He really just wanted to sit down now. Sleep preferably. Now that zombies weren’t breathing down his neck and trying to devour his flesh, the adrenalin crash was brutal. 

Yes!! Fucking success!! The first car was a huge jeep and looked like it’s owners hadn’t had time to leave their vehicle and take their stuff, as there were some seriously gruesome blood splatters trailing down the open doors leading to bloody drag marks across the cement and ending in a very mangled puddle of formerly human mush. Nice. 

Moving around to the back passenger seat, which was the only one not covered in blood, he crawled in to get the bags, grabbing them and throwing them out onto the road behind him.

He immediately wished he hadn’t.

Hidden behind the pile of large bags, that had almost created a wall between the two passenger seats, was a child’s car seat. Covered in blood. 

Stopping stock still, he just stared at the little pink seat, emotion welling up in him so strong he felt he was going to choke. It even had a tiny blood soaked bunny in it, some small child’s best friend being the only thing that remained of them.

All the sadness and pain he’d been feeling since Dan died overtook his body and he had no choice but to ride it out. Putting it off was no longer physically possible.

He sat back in the empty seat, pulled his knees up to his chest and sobbed for all he was worth. It was crying mixed with a panic attack as he rocked back and forth, fingers finding Derek’s necklace and holding it so tightly he would probably have the image imprinted on his palm for hours. 

He tried to keep as quiet as possible, but he had no clue whether or not he managed. It was like he was in his body but not in his body, like he was feeling all of the emotions but had no control over them. He just had to keep sobbing and shaking and trying to get air into his lungs in great, gasping heaves. 

It just wasn’t fair! Why the fuck did all this have to happen!??! Why did Dan have to die!??! He just wanted to go home and hug his pack and his dad! He wanted Derek to put his hand on his shoulder in that way that always made Stiles feel centered and safe under the firm grip.

He just wanted to be home.

Eventually, after God knows how much time had passed, Stiles came back to himself. He was still breathing like a drowning man, gasping between his lessening sobs. Uncurling himself and prying his hand off the necklace, he wiped his tear drenched face and tried to calm himself down. 

That’s when he heard it. Rustling, dragging…breathing.

His head shot up and looked over to the open door next to the car seat and nearly killed himself scrambling backwards out of his door.

Right in the open door, half crawled onto the car seat, was a zombie. But not any kind of zombie he’d ever encountered before. No. It was a zombie child. 

Scrambling back across the road away from the jeep, he managed to jump to his feet and hold his bat out in front of him, just as the child crawled through the car and out of the other side, dropping down to the floor in front of it.

Stiles honestly just didn’t know what to do. He was almost positive that this was the child who had once sat in that car seat and he just didn’t know if he could kill her. She was so young! She was wearing these tiny little pink jeans and a My Little Pony top and had blonde hair. It was so easy to look beyond the blood and the rips, the mangled bite on her little arm and to see the girl she once was. He’d never encountered this with a zombie before. Probably because they mostly looked like rotten, moving corpses.

She didn’t though. To him she just looked like a child.

Even as she began moving towards him, her left leg dragging behind her, the ankle bent at an odd angle, he couldn’t find it in him to see her as anything other than an unfortunate, innocent child. 

She began moving faster towards him, arms outstretched and grabbing at the thin air, small growls and snarls coming from her mouth and her jaw snapping. He kept stepping backwards blindly, trying to get away from her and think of a way he could avoid killing her. He couldn’t think of any. 

He bumped into a car and in an instant, she dived, grabbing onto his leg and going to bite it.

Yelping, he drove the handle of his bat down onto her little blonde head, a sick, wet cracking sound ringing out as she let go and fell backwards onto the road. Blood started flowing from her cracked head, forming a halo around her and staining her hair red. But she wasn’t dead.

She twitched, a low moaning coming from her as her arms and legs moved weakly. Gasping at what he’d done, more tears running down his face, he collapsed to his knees next to her broken little body, wanting to pull her into his arms but knowing he couldn’t.

He looked at her face, tears blurring his vision. Her eyes met his and didn’t look away. He wondered what colour they used to be, before the customary black and red invaded them. His heart ached with the way she was looking at him. Whether it was his own emotions reflecting back at him or not, it was almost like she was begging him to help her. To put an end to it. 

For the first time, he hoped to God there really was nothing left of who these people used to be before they got infected. For a child to be subjected to this was beyond horrific.

So as much as he would give anything not too, he knew he couldn’t leave her like this, bloodied and twitching on the ground. He got his dagger out of its sheath and readied it in his hand.

Reaching out a shaking hand, he carefully stroked the side of her face and held the dagger over her forehead with the other.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you. You didn’t deserve it. No one does. I hope you can be at peace now. I hope you find your family. I’m so sorry”

Choking on sobs once more, he drove the dagger through her head. She struggled for a second, eyes still focused on him, before she finally fell still. He pulled the dagger out and dropped it to the ground, gently closing her eyes and falling back on his haunches, just staring down at her body. 

He wanted to scream with the unfairness of it all but he knew he couldn’t. So instead he picked himself up and grabbed his bat and dagger, whipping it off as best he could on the tires of the car behind him. He’d clean it properly later.

He stood over her one last time, praying she’d found her way back to her parents and was at rest, free to be a little girl once again, before he walked away towards the bags.

He grabbed them all, despite their weight and headed back to the jeep. He didn’t have it in him to search the last three cars. He just wanted to get out of there and find somewhere to sleep. 

Stiles reached the jeep and found Lea asleep once again. He wanted to wake and shout at her, tell her how dangerous it was to let her guard down somewhere unsafe, tell her he didn’t know what he would have done if he came back from all that to find her dead. But he didn’t. Instead he sat on the ground in front of the jeep, spreading the bags out to see what was worth taking and what needed leaving.

The first was a no go, just full of the little girl’s clothes. He was about to throw it far down the road so he wouldn’t have to look at them, but stopped last minuet. Taking out one of her little tops, a purple one with pink cupcakes on it, he finally understood what Derek had meant when he forced himself to stare into fire.

As much as it hurt him, this was a reminder of what he’d done and the person who used to own it. He owed it to the little girl. He owed it to her to remember her and to remember what happened. No matter how hard it was.

Nodding to himself, he put the top into his own bag, right where his pictures were. He knew he’d feel its weight for as long as he carried it, but as he’d now come to understand, that was the point. 

The next bag was much more fruitful, containing more breakfast bars but in an actual variety or flavours! There were also juice boxes, energy bars, a few bags of animal crackers, a tin of fruit cocktail and two bumper packs of wet wipes. He could have danced with happiness! If he wasn’t so sure that his body would literally break on him if he did.

The next bag was the heaviest, a bulky army type backpack with rock solid lumps that had dug into his back painfully. Hopefully it had some decent gear in there for him to have had to lug it the whole way. He’s pretty sure his shoulder will forever have a freaking dent in it!

Unzipping it, he let out a tiny whoop of joy, complete with a fist pump. Jackpot.

Inside were two wind-up torches, a decent sized first aid kit, both a box of matches and a lighter and best of all, three tightly rolled up sleeping bags. God bless well prepared people. 

Putting it all back, he hefted the bags and moved to the boot, putting them inside and then climbing in the driver’s side. 

Starting his jeep, he drove over to the other side of the highway, the one that should be heading into the city instead of out and was therefore totally empty, and set off. 

He didn’t have a definite idea for where they were going to rest for the night, but he was pretty sure he remembered there being a motel and dinner type thing an hour or so away. 

He remembered stopping there when he drove up at the start of term, dying for a piss and craving some curly fries. He knew the curly fries would be off the cards, but maybe it had a safe enough room for them to spend the night in. Somewhere they could rest safely and get their energy back, as Stiles was determined to drive the whole day tomorrow and really break the back of their journey. 

He just wanted to get home now, more than anything in the world. This new world was changing him, and the longer he was stuck in it, the more of himself he would loose. 

He’d killed a child today. Yes it was an infected one, but a child non the less. He’d always known he would do anything to protect the people he cared about, and he always knew that gave him the potential to be someone that wasn’t entirely ‘good’. But this was different. He needed to get home before he lost himself completely.


	14. Chapter 14

LONG BUT IMPORTANT A/N COMING UP SO PLEASE GIVE IT A READ AND I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER! 

HELLO MY LOVES!!!! So sorry about the wait for this!! Okay, important explanation and warning for the future coming up here, so bare with me :) As a couple of you know, I'm ill. I have a shitty disease that I'm stuck with (no cure ftw -.-) and whilst usually I can get on with everything despite it, sometimes it just gets the better of me. So i've been pretty dead to the world for a few days, in and out of hospital and bed. So I'd been writing bits but not much and either had no time or felt to shitty to do it properly. 

I did however, write a very, very weird chapter the other night when I was off my tits on morphine. I must have thought "I KNOW!! NOW IS THE PERFECT TIME TO WRITE!" and dear sweet holy Lord, the end result was fucking mental! So be glad that in my infinite drugged up wisdom, I didn't decide to just post straight after I wrote it :p I did keep a bit of it in this chapter though, but changed the details. Because I decided that Stiles just had to start singing but in the original version he was singing Barbie Girl at the top of his voice. Yeah. I don't even know either :p 

But yeah, this will probably happen again in future before this fic is done, but I'll always try to write through it or make up for it in double posts, which I am going to do now. So please forgive me, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter, even though I personally ain't chuffed with it. But at least it's done so I can get on with the next part of the fic, which is faaar more interesting :) toodle pip my dears :) 

 

Stiles had been driving in silence once more for at least another hour before he reached the end of his tether. He was sick of being stuck in his own head, something he’d hated even before all of this shit went down. It was also getting physically impossible to stay sat still and silent for any longer, his Adderall having worn off a while ago, leaving everything a jumbled mess in his head, thoughts jumping from one thing to another, having to resist the urge to pull over and check things out whenever he drove past a clump of cars. 

So, unable to drive in the oppressive silence and stillness for one more second, and deciding that it was probably time for Lea to wake up anyway, he burst into song. 

“Carry on my waaaaywaaard soooooon!! They’ll be peace when you are doooone!! Lay your weary head to reeeest!!! Don’t you cry noo mooore!!!”

Cue much head banging and steer wheel drumming.

Lea jumped awake with a start, staring at him like he was crazy.

"For fuck sake Stiles! Shut up! I'm sleeping!" she said in the most adorable, blearily-pissed off tone, reaching over and hitting him in the arm.

"Not a chance. You've slept for ages and if I have to drive in silence for even one more second, I will explode. So I'm going to hit this wheel, head bang and sing epic road trip songs. Especially ones that make me feel like I'm in an episode of Supernatural. So either deal with it or join in because I know you know it, we've had too many late night Supernatural marathons for you not too. So just do it!"

He didn’t know why, but it just seemed so important to get her to join in. Like something would start mending itself inside her if her did. He knew that was utter bollocks, but he felt it non the less. So he injected as much passion into his voice as he could when pleading with her, before continuing on singing as loud as he could and speeding up the jeep along the huge, empty stretch of road in front of them.

“CARRY ON MY WAAAAAYWAAARD SOOOOOON!!! THEY’LL BE PEACE WHE-“

He stopped in surprise and turned to stare at Lea. She’d joined in. She’d actually joined in! She was actually singing, albeit not as loudly as him, but still!! 

So Stiles turned back to the road, gunning it completely and joining in at the top of his lungs, prompting her to do the same until they were both singing as loud as they could, an actual smile on their faces as they flew down the deserted highway. 

It didn’t make everything okay. Not by a long shot. But it was the first time he hadn’t felt suffocated and strangled by the weeds in his body, the ones entwined with his very bones. It was the first time Lea hadn’t looked empty. So he let go of everything. Of all the fear and soul consuming guilt. Of all the confusion and horror about the world around them. Of wondering when their number would finally be up, wondering whether he’d ever actually get home and if he did, what he would find there.

They carried on singing for the next half an hour. Any song that came into their heads they’d sing as loud as they could, as though sheer volume and effort could force away the sorrow, guilt and fear that they both felt. And for a while, it actually worked.

Eventually though, they had to stop, thirst and tiredness kicking their asses. Stiles wanted to pull over desperately, but he was sure the motel/diner type thing was close now, and he didn’t want to waste time by stopping now when it was beginning to get dark. They’d past quite a few zombies over the last couple of hours, saw them wandering between the abandoned cars on the other side of the road, or staggering along towards the road from either side of the highway. 

He wasn’t in any way shape or form going to risk stopping. Soon it would be too dark to keep a proper eye out and there was a scarily good chance that the infected would be upon them before either of them knew it, and it would be impossible to escape. 

So, ignoring their increasingly noisy stomachs and his drooping eyes, he carried on. The next half hour or so was sheer torture, as Stiles was constantly about three seconds from falling asleep and both of them were so hungry they could eat a scabby horse. 

Just as he was about to admit defeat and pull over, afraid that he’d crash them if he drove any longer being so tired, he finally saw it. Just up ahead was the motel/diner that he’d started to wonder about whether it did in fact exist. And thank the dear sweet holy fucking Lord that it did.

Stepping on it, he sped up the road, eager to get inside and sorted before it went fully dark. He wanted to make sure it was safe before they got comfy, and that was hard to do when there was no freaking lighting and it was dark outside. He was over the freaking moon that he’d found the torches, coz they’d be screwed otherwise.

Pulling up outside, he stopped the jeep and waited, scanning the outside of the building and the surrounding areas, peering through the dim light for any signs of life. Or un-life. 

Seeing none, and rejoicing at the fact that none of the diners windows were smashed, he finally opened the car door, deeming it as safe as they were going to get. He got out, bat in hand and checked again, not about to take any chances now that they’d got this far. Once more seeing that they were still alone, he went to the boot, taking out all of the bags and motioning for Lea to come and join him.

Once there, he handed her one of the torches and her crowbar, as well as two of the bags. He too had a torch, as well as his bat and two bags. He knew it was cumbersome, and wouldn’t help them if it came to fighting, but they needed all of their things. If this turned out to be a safe place, not only would it give them chance to properly rest and eat, but also to sort out what was useful or not and hopefully cut down on the amount of bags they had to carry. He was almost positive they could shift stuff around and get rid of a bag. 

So, leading the way with Lea close behind him, he made his way over to the front door. It was boarded up; planks of wood nailed all over it to keep it shut and protect the glass. They had a crow bar, so he was certain he could get rid the wood if needs be, but it was seriously starting to get dark now, and he really didn’t fancy making any noise. Not when it could alert an unknown number of infected to their whereabouts. It still seemed like they were alone, but he was in no way willing to risk it.

Stiles was pretty sure that there had to be another entrance somewhere, one that would be easier to get into and secure after them. Maybe a back door or something. Didn’t all places like this have to have another escape in case of fires? He was pretty positive that this was the case, so, putting his finger on his lips and showing Lea, not wanting her to make a sound, he started slowly creeping around the side of the building. 

He tried to stay as quiet as possible as he made his way down the side, avoiding the strewn rubbish and bits of rubble from the two large tipped over bins, and started towards the back. Once there he stopped, grip tightening on the bat. Strewn all over the floor at the back of the building were bodies. Seven bodies in various states of decay, some looking to have been eaten and others left alone, and, if his eyes could be believed in such dim light, half of one pulling itself across the floor.

Feeling very much as though he’d just stepped straight out of The Walking Dead, he moved over to it and stared, its decaying form was disgusting, especially the guts and intestines trailing after it. It caught sight of him and stretched its hands out towards him, swiping fruitlessly at the air in front of him. He knew it couldn’t do much harm, but deciding to be safe, he smashed his bat down onto its head, killing it instantly. Just another body on the lawn now.

Looking around, her tried to figure out what had happened. The diner half looked safe enough, though he wasn’t sure about the motel building just opposite. Maybe they’d been getting supplies or heading out when it happened. 

It wasn’t until he properly looked that he realized what had actually happened.

Suicide. 

The bodies, which at first glance had looked strewn all over, where actually in a rough circle. And they each had a bullet hole in their heads. 

He walked around the circle, taking in the bodies. They were a mixture of ages and by the looks of them, it could only have happened in the last week. Meaning they’d only lasted two weeks in the new world before deciding they wanted no part in it.

Despite feeling dreadful about it, he decided to go pilfer weapons off their bodies, as well as some keys hopefully for the big metal door he’d just spotted at the back of the building.

He searched four bodies but found no weapons. How on earth had they killed themselves then?

“Stiles. Come here.”

Raising his head at Lea’s quite voice, he walked over to where she was stood, gazing down at the body in front of her.

It was a man, probably about his dad’s age. He was holding a gun and had a bullet hole in his head. He could be wrong, but Stiles strongly suspected that he’d been the one to shoot everyone and then himself. 

His suspicions where confirmed when he saw what the man was clutching in his other hand. It was a photograph with seven people in it and had a note on the back. It said ‘God forgive what we are about to do”.

Putting the picture in the man’s jacket, he turned away, trying not to think about what must have happened. Because he just couldn’t imagine how it must have felt to be that man, to shoot your whole family. But also, he understood. 

If a shit ton of zombies were heading their way, and Stiles was with the Pack and they all had absolutely no way out, he couldn’t say for sure that he wouldn’t do what this guy had done. Surely it was kinder to end their lives quick and painlessly, rather than let them be torn apart and possibly turned. 

Not wanting to dwell on that thought any longer, he bent down and started to look through the guy’s jacket pocket. Grim was not even the word for what he was doing, but desperate times and all that.

Just as he was about to give it up, he finally came across the keys. He pulled them out and stepped away from the body, turning to look at Lea who was walking around the circle of bodies. She had tears running down her face as she stared at the body of a young dark haired boy about their age. Moving over to her, Stiles put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick one armed hug, movements clumsy due to everything he was carrying.

He gently pulled her away and over to the big metal door at the back of the building, partially obscured by industrial bins. Shining the torch on the lock, he took out the heavy ring of keys and started trying them in the lock. He needed to hurry now. The sun was almost completely set, and having a high powered torch on was like having a giant sign over their heads saying ‘living human beings over here! Come and get your living human beings!!’. They needed in asap. 

Finally! After trying all but three keys, he finally found the right one, feeling the click of the lock and the door releasing. Hefting his bags, he held his bat and torch tightly, shining it through the doorway and into the room beyond. It seemed empty and he just hoped to God it would stay that way. Just one frigging night! That was all Stiles was asking! 

Turning to Lea, he shushed her and mouthed, “be careful, stay behind me and watch out” before stepping into the darkness.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N Hello my dears :) Thank you all every so much for being so understanding :) I really, really appreciate it :) So here's the next chapter and I hope you all enjoy it, toodle pip :) 

 

As Stiles walked into the pitch black room, he was suddenly reminded of every single fucking zombie movie in existence. He was quite the expert when it came to them, probably one of the reasons he'd survived so far and he just knew that at some point he'd turn his torch to some dark, secluded corner and BAM!! A rabid zombie would jump out and eat him. 

So to say he was a little tense as he slowly moved the beam of light around the room was a slight understatement. The term 'shitting it' was probably far more appropriate. He was however, pleasantly surprised to find that the only living things in the room was them. 

Breathing a tiny sigh of relief, he started to move around, looking at the boxes stacked up. It appeared to be the back room of the diner where they would have stored things, probably food supplies, and had another door in the opposite wall that he presumed either led to the kitchen or out into the diner itself. 

There was a decision to be made now though. They could stay here, where they knew it was mostly safe and secure and would allow them a decent nights sleep. Or, they could venture further into the building and possibly find extra supplies. They could also however, find some zombies. 

But if there were zombies in the building, was he better staying here and chancing them not finding them, or should he seek them out and eliminate the threat? Normally Stiles was a big fan of ignoring a problem until it went away, but he wasn't sure that was a choice anymore.

Knowing there was only one way either of them would sleep well tonight, he made up his mind. They would explore the building further. Turning to Lea, he quickly and quietly outlined his idea and why he thought it was best and was supremely relieved to hear that she agreed with him. However, she probably wasn’t going to agree with the next part of his plan.

“Right. Erm, I think you should stay here. No, listen to me for a second. We know this part of the building is safe and defendable. There are no windows and no way that the infected will get through them doors. So there really is no point for both of us to go out there and risk it! Not when we have a perfectly safe spot here. So I need you to stay and defend the fort as it were, so that if it does go tits up, I can leg it back and know this is safe. Plus, I can move and fight better if I don’t have to carry bags. So please Lea, I need you to do this for me. And…you’re in no fit state to fight just yet. Please? I can’t…I can’t lose you too…”

Stiles felt utterly horrible to put that in there, but it was the truth and needed to be said. She wasn’t right yet, her head still wasn’t fully there and he wasn’t confident that she could protect herself, and certainly not cover him. And he really couldn’t cope with losing another person so soon. Or ever if he could help it. 

Some people thought Stiles was a selfless person, how he’d always throw himself into danger to help the ones he cared about. The thing is though; he really couldn’t be less selfless. Everything he did, he did out of a bone deep terror of the people he loved leaving him. He ran into danger to protect his friends because he literally did not know what he’d do if they died. If he lost his dad, his pack…well, he didn’t like to think about it. He was probably selling himself a bit short there because of course he did things selflessly sometimes and he did always help no matter what. It was just that often they were fuelled deep down by his fear of being alone.

Shaking himself from those thoughts, lest they get the better of him, he watched Lea’s face. He knew she would be angry with him, but he’d rather have her pissed off and alive, than happy and dead. 

Finally, she nodded, albeit reluctantly, and he moved over to the center of the floor to set things up for Lea, wanting her to be comfortable whilst he was gone. He opened the bulkiest bag and took out a sleeping bag, shaking it out and laying it down. He then put her weapon and torch next to it and dropped all their bags. He didn’t need much, just his bat and torch, so he would leave everything with her. 

He just whished they had a map, so that if the worst did happen, she could still get to Beacon Hills. He’d gone over the directions enough with her, but he’d feel happier knowing she had something definite to follow. 

Standing, he gave her a quick hug and promised he’d be back soon. And he damn well intended to keep that promise. She held onto him tightly for a few moments before letting go and sitting herself down, her torch on and pointing at the ceiling to spread the light out more. 

Feeling satisfied that she had enough to be comfortable with till he got back, he turned towards the door and began trying the ring of keys for one that fit.

It only took four goes this time before the lock clicked open. Turning back to Lea, Stiles nodded once, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile but was probably more of a grimace, before he switched his torch on and stepped into the unknown dark, shutting the door firmly behind him.

He was in the kitchen. It was cold and dark, the metal of the surfaces reflecting the single beam of light from his torch. It was really eerie. He hesitated for a moment, but forced himself to move. He couldn't do anything stood still. So he moved further into the kitchen, taking in the emptiness of it. Until that is, he got to the other side of the island in the center. Knives! Lots and lots of knives! They were all lined up along the wall, looking very sharp and held in place to the wall by magnets. 

Doing a quick check of the rest of the kitchen, he moved over to the wall and set his bat on the counter, reaching out and pulling the biggest two off the magnetic plate. As his brains had decided to jump ship through tiredness, he decided it was a great idea to test how sharp they were by running the tip of his finger over the blade. And yes. They were sharp. 

Hissing quietly, he put his cut finger in his mouth and sucked on it, hating the cloying metallic taste of blood on his tongue. It was necessary though, as he’d discovered all too well that the infected could smell human blood from a pretty decent distance and would come flocking to it without fail. 

Satisfied that he had gotten all the blood of his finger, he carefully stuffed the two knives into his pocket. It was a risky idea, seeing as the sharp blade was still poking out very close to his side, but they could end up being really helpful so he was just going to have to risk it. He’d just have to be careful. Picking his bat up again, he moved over to the door that should lead out into the eating area.

The door wasn’t locked and swung open easily under Stiles’ hand with a long squeak. Swearing under his breath, he stood stock still and listened. When he thankfully heard nothing from beyond the door, he squeezed though the gap, not wanting to open it any further just in case. 

Moving out into the diner, he turned off his torch. It was lit up enough by the moonlight coming through the windows and he didn’t want anything to see his light through them either. 

So far so good. It seemed like it was totally deserted! Thank fucking God! Smiling slightly in relief, he went to look around further. It was utterly deserted, only empty tables and chairs left. He knew there wouldn’t be much but he had hoped for something.

Huzah! Dear sweet God on high it must be his lucky day! Or night. Who cares, he just found a vending machine! And it still had some things in it! 

Feeling giddy with happiness, he all but ran over to it and felt slightly pathetic that such a simple thing could make his so damn happy! But saying that, if there was one thing the zombie apocalypse was good for; it was making you appreciate the little things.

Ah. He didn’t have any money. Shit. 

Oh fuck it. Looking around once more to check they were definitely alone, he rammed the end of his bat through the glass, shattering it instantly. 

Wincing at the noise, he froze and listened, smiling widely when he heard non and started grabbing the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups with enthusiasm, opening one and stuffing it straight into his mouth.

He pretty much moaned in sheer fucking delight! He had never, ever tasted anything so God damn tasty in all his life! He hadn’t even swallowed the first one down before he was shoveling another into his mouth. Heaven. He had found heaven. 

Polishing off the last one, he shoved the remaining few packets into his jeans and jacket pockets, along with two Twix’s, a Mars Bar, a Yorkie and three bags of Skittles. Safe to say his pockets were a bit stuffed. So damn worth it though.

Grinning like an idiot, he turned to leave, deciding that he’d checked the place out enough and it was time to eat and sleep. Finally, one night of peace!

Once again, he could have fucking kicked himself for jinxing it. Just as he had moved to leave, he heard a faint clanking and scratching.

Gripping his bat tightly, he looked around, trying to locate the source of the noise. Empty. The room was still totally empty. Looking at the slightly open door he came through, he saw that the room beyond was still empty and he could see nothing through the diner’s windows either. 

He heard it again, louder this time. Following the direction is came from, he found himself walking to the opposite side of the diner, somewhere he hadn’t been before due to him falling in love with the vending machine. 

There! A door! A metal door right in the far end and easily missed when glanced over. Stiles kicked himself for not checking properly before he’d stuffed his face and moved slowly forward.

Reaching the door, he put his ear against it and listened. Yep, there was definitely something there, no doubt about it. He could hear it shuffling about and scratching at the door. It seemed to realize that Stiles was on the other side, as it started scratching harder at the door and banging against it. 

Then it started twisting the handle. And he realized too late that the door wasn’t actually locked.

Stiles threw himself against the door to hold it closed and had to drop his bat to grab the handle tight. It clattered to the floor and rolled away from him. Shit. 

At the noise, the zombie seemed to get even more riled up, throwing itself against the door in earnest and twisting the handle with more strength than Stiles had expected, forcing it open and leaving Stiles’ weight the only thing stopping the door from opening fully. 

He pushed as hard as he could against the door, but the prospect of having fresh meat after being stuck in the room God knows how long had spurred the zombie on and Stiles knew it was stronger than him. Every second, the gap in the door widened a little further.

With one shocking and almighty shove, the zombie threw itself at the door and forced it open, sending Stiles sprawling backwards and landing on the floor.

Pain! So much pain! It shot through his side like fire and stole the breath from his lungs. He had enough time to look down at his side and see blood before he had to focus on the zombie standing in front of him.

Ignoring the stabbing pain, he scrambled backwards to where he knew his bat had rolled, leaving a trail of blood that made the zombie go crazy. It ran forward and just like that, it was on top of him. 

His arms came up instinctively, blocking the zombie and holding it off, but the pain in his side flared up ferociously and his head swam. Fighting the urge to either be sick or pass out, he tried with all his might to keep the snarling jaws away from his throat. But he knew he couldn’t hold it off forever. 

The zombie was forcing itself down harder and harder, trying with all its might to get its teeth into him. The pain was so bad now that black spots were appearing in his vision. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

The strength began to seep out of his arms, allowing the zombie to get even closer. 

His vision was blurring badly now, head swimming with pain.

He only had seconds at most.

Distantly, he heard a loud banging and then suddenly the zombie wasn’t on top of him anymore.

Just before he fell into darkness completely, a blurry face entered his line of sight. It looked familiar but he couldn’t think properly, his head was all over and he could hardly see.

It did have brown hair though. Curly brown hair. 

He felt a soft, small hand on his face and his name being called from far away. 

He smiled. He remembered the face now.

“Mom?”

Then darkness.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N SO SORRY AGAIN MY LOVES!!!! My body genuinely hates me more than normal at the moment :p The morning after my last update I ended up throwing up and then face planting on the bathroom floor and scaring the shit out of my mum, as my face was covered in blood coz I'd made my nose bleed! and I just wouldn't come round properly. So I was very disgusting and barely conscious for about and hour :p and I've been shitty and rotten every since! Though my Kelly did come round last night to keep me company and be lovely. So I had a lovely night of cuddling in bed and watching films ^__^  
But on to the actual thing you're here for :p please ignore my ramblings. This is more of a filler chapter than anything (sorry!) but the ending is interesting...Stiles seems to have finally began admitting something...so enjoy and toodle pip :D

 

Noises fade in and out, sensation flared and disappeared, thoughts floated through his head then dissolved. He was suspended between two states, unsure whether to fall into the warm darkness or force through into the harsh light.

“…Stiles…come back…will be okay…will hurt…sorry…wake up…”

A voice entered his bubble, fading in and out.

“…fuck sake Stiles…wake up…you dare leave me alone…”

It was increasing in volume, more words becoming audible, although he couldn’t quite understand what they meant. His body was no longer separate from his mind anymore, he felt as though he was slowly being sucked back into his skin. He almost wanted to fight it, as the more he came back to himself and out of the warm darkness, the more he felt pain flaring, gradually increasing with every moment.

“…that’s right! Come on Stiles…can do it!”

Memories started playing in his head like a movie and the pain reached horrific levels and he was no longer able to stay still.

Stiles jolted into conscious, shooting upright and then falling back immediately, feeling like he’d ran into a brick wall. He groaned out loud, hand jumping to the source of the pain but being stopped before it got there.

“Stiles! Stay still you idiot! God, I didn’t save your life for you to ruin all my hard work. Lie back okay?”

Lea. That was definitely Lea. Opening his scrunched up eyes, he blinked blearily up at his friend, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his side.

“What…what happened??”

His voice felt like sandpaper, barely audible and full of gravel. He could hardly think with all the pain flaring in his side, throbbing and burning with every beat of his heart. 

"Well, you idiot, it seems like you had a wrestling match with a zombie! And that's not even the worse part! You must have fell back and landed on the fucking knife you had in your pocket! Why you thought putting them there was a good idea, I'll never know! You scared the life out of me Stiles! I killed the zombie just before it got you and when I kicked it off, you were just led there, barely conscious and bleeding! It was everywhere Stiles! Then I saw the knife slicing into your side and I thought I was going to lose you! I dragged you back here and did my best, but the first aid kit you found wasn't enough for it. You wouldn't stop bleeding! It was lucky I found the stitches and needles at the bottom or else...you could have died Stiles!"

She broke off with a sob; her voice creaking with held back tears the whole way through, getting more upset and desperate with each word. Stiles just felt dreadful. He knew how he would feel if the situation was reversed, but for Lea it most have been so much worse. She'd already lost her boyfriend of five years; she just couldn't lose her friend. He couldn't leave her.

It suddenly hit him just how close he came to dying. He'd faced death with the zombies plenty of times since the start of all this, but he'd always escaped physically unharmed. This time, he would have to deal with the consequences of what had happened. He'd been stabbed! Well, he'd fallen on it, so it was more his own fault, but still!

A shiver ran through him as he realized how close he'd come to never getting home. Never seeing his dad or pack again. It was a sobering thought and he could kick himself for being so stupid!

"I'm sorry Lea. I really am. I was stupid and, well, thank you. I shouldn't have left you behind. And…I shouldn't have said you couldn't fight. You saved my ass Lea. I'd have been screwed if it weren't for you."

He pulled her down into a hug, letting her cry into his neck for a bit, despite the position really hurting his side. She needed this and after everything she'd been through and done, he wasn't going to stop her. 

When she finally stopped and pulled back, Stiles was pale and shaky with pain, and he felt like he was going to vomit any minuet.

"Erm, you don't happen to have any pain killers in there do you?" he asked hopefully. Her face fell and she bit her lip.

"I'm so sorry Stiles, but there isn't. There's only a few tablets of paracetamol. When I was stitching you up, you were half conscious and it was dreadful. I've never done anything so horrible in all my life. And there's nothing more I can do for you now. We need to go find a town or something with a pharmacy. We need more disinfecting wipes and as many painkillers as we can get. Coz if it gets infected, I really don't know what I could do."

Well fuck. How on earth was he going to manage all the way to Beacon Hills with no painkillers? It was going to be pure hell. Not to mention the infection aspect. He'd really fucked up this time.

"Right. Well, as shit as that is, I'll just have to deal with it. Is there anyway to keep it protected?"

She seemed to perk up a bit at that, making Stiles feel slightly better.

"Well, that's were I was able to help. After I stitched it up, there were enough antiseptic wipes to clean it properly and then some bandages. But I was looking through these boxes and I found bed sheets. So I cut one up and used it to bind it up properly. So it’s way safer now. We’ll take more so we can keep it as clean as possible and minimize the risks. I just wish I could have done more. What’s the point of all this medical training if I can’t use it properly.”

“No!” he rushed to assure her. “You’ve done amazing! I’d have never been able to any of that if it were the other way around! Really. I owe you so much, I really do. So we’ll have a look through the rest of the boxes, maybe we’ll find some other stuff to take. And if not, we are so taking the bed sheets. We’ll be comfy and warm now at least.”

As much as he was hurting and afraid, Stiles needed to make sure she was okay. He couldn’t stand to upset her anymore than she had been. She didn’t deserve it.

She seemed to brighten a bit at his words, smiling softly and squeezing his shoulders before standing and turning to look through the boxes and collect some more bedding.

As soon as she wasn’t looking, Stiles dropped the smile he’d plastered on his face. He squeezed his eyes closed in pain and a small gasp escaped him. Sweet holy fuck he was in pain. Gingerly, he moved his hand to his side; lifting up the clean tshirt Lea must have put him in, to see his wound. There were tight white makeshift bandages wrapped thickly around his lower torso, yet still some blood was starting to show through. It really must have gone deep. 

Looking around the room, his caught sight of his old tshirt in the corner. It was literally drenched in blood. Yep. It definitely went deep. They’d have to get rid of that as soon as possible, they really didn’t need any zombies smelling it. 

Feeling sicker and shakier than before, he led back and stared at the roof, listening to Lea mill about. She talked to him for a bit, not that he was listening or replying, but she did it anyway. He so appreciated it. It gave him something to focus on, to keep him grounded. 

The pain was so bad it was like being dragged upstream in a raging river; submerged in a constant, suffocating pain that forced itself down his throat and drowned him, stabbing pains shooting through him like he was banging into razor sharp rocks. 

“Stiles!”

He opened his eyes with a start, not even realizing they’d been shut, to see Lea bent over him, a worried expression on her face and gently shaking his shoulders.

“Jesus Stiles, you scared me. You wouldn’t wake up! You’ve lost a lot of blood and I don’t think you’re out of the woods yet. So try not to go to sleep okay? I’m going to get us some food together now, will you be okay for a few minuets?”

Stiles nodded, head full of cotton wool. He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep. It was like his whole body was betraying him and there was nothing he could do. It was terrifying.

Lea finally turned away to sort their food out and Stiles went back to staring at the ceiling. He didn’t like this. Didn’t like feeling so helpless. Every other time he’d faced down death, he’d done it moving, with adrenalin rushing through him. He was actually able to do something. Now, it was like his body and his mind were two separate things and were fighting against each other. 

Fear and pain were almost making him want to cry, something he very rarely did. He longed for his dad and his Pack more than ever before. He just wanted to go home and feel safe! Or as safe as he could get with the world as it was. 

Reaching up slowly, he pulled his necklace out of his top and held it tightly, squeezing his eyes shut tight to stop the tears that wanted to well up. 

He…he wanted Derek.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N Hey sweeties!! Shit chapter this time I'm afraid! But uni is starting next week (joy of infinite joys -.-) and I have to do three bastard essays -.- But I thought a filler chapter was better than no chapter at all and I promise the next one will be a proper one :) So I hope you enjoy it, even if it is shit. Toodle pip :)

 

Stiles drifted in and out of reality for a while; awake but not quite there. At some points, he could have sworn he heard the Pack chatting away and the joy he felt at hearing them turned to torture when he realized it wasn’t real. A few tears may have slipped down his face then, but he couldn’t really be sure, nor did he really care.

After what felt like an age, he finally emerged from the fog he’d been floating in, pain and hunger grounding him. He lifted his head slightly and looked over at Lea, who was sat facing him with her back to the wall, legs out in front of her and looking deep in thought as she tore strips from a large white bed sheet. 

He tried to call for her but choked on air, his throat feeling like someone had poured the Sahara desert down it, setting him off coughing violently. It was sheer, burning agony. He couldn’t get any air into his lungs and every cough sent stabbing pain through his side like a white-hot poker. 

He felt hands under his head, lifting it up and soothing words being spoken. He looked up into the face of Lea, who had pulled his head onto her lap and was gently running her fingers through his hair to calm him. It began to work, and his coughing slowed down before finally stopping.

He heaved, wonderful air rushing into his lungs and filling them, the pain dimming slightly. He felt a bottle being pressed to his lips, and he gulped it down greedily.

“Oh no you don’t.” Lea said, pulling the bottle away, causing him to glare up at her. “And don’t look at me like that either. If you drink too much too quickly, you will throw up. And if you think coughing is bad, imagine what that would feel like.”

Well, he supposed she had a point. Nodding to show he understood, she let him drink again, but much slower this time and only a small amount. God, he never knew water could taste so fucking good!! It was heaven! She pulled the bottle away and put it down, earning her another glare, to which she stuck out her tongue. 

“Come on, try and sit up a bit so you can eat this.” She said, sliding her arm under his shoulder and gently pulling him up to lean against the wall behind him. 

The movement sent sudden shooting pains through him and it startled a little pained gasp out of him, effectively ridding him of any hunger he had been feeling.

“Urgh. I don’t think I could eat a thing. I feel sick.” He moaned, his head falling back against the wall as he tried to fight down the urge to chug his guts up.

She looked at him in pity, but shook her head.

“Nope, sorry Stiles, you’re going to have to force something down. You haven’t eaten properly in far too long and you’ve lost a lot of blood, you need to get food in you.”

Sighing, knowing he would lose this argument not matter what, he nodded, and sat himself up a little more, gritting his teeth and trying to settle his nausea through sheer force of will.

Smiling at him, she passed him a juice box and the tin of fruit cocktail from the bag he’d found, as well as one of the dreaded muesli bars.

“Try and eat the fruit and the juice for sure, and if you can manage it then the bar would help too. We need to get you better and ready to move as soon as we can.”

He nodded, knowing she was right. They might be safe here, but he was not stupid enough to believe it would remain that way. Plus, the longer they waited, the more dangerous the trip would be. Not to mention what could be happening back in Beacon Hills.

So with that in mind, he picked up the juice and took a sip. It was actually heavenly and he drank it happily, if slowly, not wanting to increase his chances of throwing up in any way. 

Once finished, he put it aside and picked up the tin and the fork Lea handed him as she came to sit next to him against the wall, pulling the bed sheet with her and continuing her work.

He ate slowly and carefully, but actually enjoyed it immensely. Dry food got old even quicker than you would believe, so it was a welcome change to have some fruit, especial tinned fruit cocktail in all its syrupy glory.

He ate most of the fruit, but couldn’t finish it off. Luckily, Lea deemed that enough for now and finished it off herself quite happily. She seemed the best she’d been since Dan died, probably because she had something to do and focus on. 

He knew they’d have to talk about it at some point, knew she would eventually hit the anger faze and want to confront him about what he did, how he dragged her away against her will. Stiles was not looking forward to that conversation in any way, but it would eventually need to be had if she was to begin moving on. But for now, he was just pleased to see her out of that dreadful catatonic state.

They sat in content silence for a bit, just enjoying the feeling of being relatively safe. But he knew they couldn’t get too comfortable and needed to make a plan for leaving.

“So doc, when do you think it’s safe for me to travel? Because ideally, we need to set off tomorrow if we want to keep a decent time. I know it’s safe here but it probably won’t stay that way and the longer we delay, the more things could go wrong.”

She sighed, obviously having anticipated this question popping up

“Look Stiles, I know you want to get home, but you’ve really had one hell of an injury and I don’t know if it’s wise letting you tire yourself out driving for miles! Not to mention what would happen in we run into the infected! How would you fight when you can barely sit up? So as much as I wish it were otherwise, I think two days at least. I’m sorry.”

No. That would not do. They couldn’t waste two days, not on account of him and his stupidity. He would make himself stand and drive and fight on sheer will power alone if he has to. They were not staying for two days.

“I’m sorry Lea but that just isn’t an option. We’re leaving tomorrow and that’s final. I’ll be fine, I promise. We hardly saw any infected on the road, driving means sitting on my ass all day anyway and we’ll take it in turns if we have to. I get what you’re saying, I really do and ordinarily I’d agree. But it’s just getting too dangerous to wait any longer. So please Lea, please don’t argue with me about this.”

He hated to sound like he was ordering her, but they would be leaving tomorrow whether she liked it or not.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N HELLO M'DEARS!!! So sorry for the wait! I'm so annoyed about it but it couldn't be helped as uni once again owns my soul -.- I promise I will always do my best to post every day/every other day, but it might not always be possible. I will try though. Anyway, in this chapter, upon request, we actually have some Derek :D Only a bit though, but it's one of the many little hints and scenes I have planned that start to create a jigsaw of Derek and Stiles' relationship before all the zombie shit happened. So I hope you enjoy it guys and as always, any comments/kudos would be much appreciated ^__^ They don't half make me smile and with uni being the soul sucking vampire it always is, that would be lovely :p Hope you are all well, toodle pip :) 

 

That night, Stiles dreams of Derek. 

He dreams of the week the whole pack spent together camping by a beautiful lake a few hours away from Beacon Hills. They had all wanted to spend as much time together as they could before they went off to their first year of college. It was a beautiful place, surrounded by trees on all sides; sunlight peering through the leaves casting dappled patterns on the ground or glinting off the clear lake. 

They spent the week running through the forest like mad people, swimming in the crystal waters and chatting around a bonfire at night. It was wonderful, easily one of the best weeks of Stiles’ life. 

The whole pack had grown inseparable, they couldn’t be more different than the people they once were. Despite having blamed himself for what happened to Scott, and all the things that it triggered, for so long, he couldn’t help but be so happy that he dragged his friend out that night. Yes it caused so many problems and much heartbreak in the past, but it turned out to be exactly what this mismatched group of people needed. 

Some found love only heard of in fairytales, some found friendships they’d dreamed of but never hoped to get. Some found a group of people with whom they could be themselves, totally and unreservedly, no need to show off or lie or pretend to be someone they’re not. 

And some found family. Though never able to replace those that had been lost, these lonely individuals finally had people who loved and accepted them no matter what. Always there to lend a hand and listen, protect and love, give a purpose too and support. 

Somehow, in the middle of all the chaos and the pain, once the dust had settled, these poor lost souls found themselves a home in one another. 

The final night found Stiles sat in front of the bonfire, the warmth sinking into his very bones as he watched his pack laughing and playing about like little kids. He absently played with his necklace and wondered where the Sourwolf had gotten to. Almost as soon after the thought crossed his mind, he felt someone sit down next to him, their shoulders touching and sending warmth into Stiles. He smiled, knowing exactly who had joined him. 

And that was how they remained for the rest of the night, pressed close together, staring into the fire or out at the pack. Sometimes they talked and sometimes they just sat in silence, content with each other’s quiet company and the surprising amount of comfort it brought them.

They didn’t move for hours, and as the fire began to burn down and the rest of the Pack had retired to their tents, Stiles finally asked the question that had been troubling him for a while. 

“Derek…will you be okay when we’ve left?”

Silence met his words and he didn’t dare look Derek in the eye, not wanting to see the iron wall that clamped down whenever he wanted to protect himself. The idea of him wanting to protect himself again Stiles, well, it hurt if he was honest. There was not a force on earth that would make Stiles want to hurt Derek. 

As it was, he completely missed the open and unguarded look of sheer surprise and…fondness. 

“You’re the first to ask that.” He got in response, making Stiles snort.

“Yeah well, as I’ve said a hundred times, they aren’t always the most intuitive of bunches.”

This prompted a little huff of laughter out of Derek; something Stiles always strived to make happen as much as he possibly could.

"So, you gunna answer then?"

He sighed and turned away from Stiles to stare out across the water. Stiles was ready to give it up as a bad job when in a split second, he could actually see Derek lower his walls. 

It changed his whole posture, made him seem more vulnerable and younger. Human. Sometimes it was a shock to remember that their Alpha wasn't that much older than they were. That he had never even been intended to become an Alpha. Yeah he'd screwed up big time at the start, but he was so much better now. He'd become the one they could all go to and rely on, the one who'd look after them all no matter what. 

It was times like this that Stiles wondered who took care of him. And he was pretty sure the answer was no one. 

"I just...how will I protect you all when you're so far away?"

Oh God, Stiles literally had to stop himself from reaching out and hugging him. This was a side of Derek that very rarely came to the surface, and as far as he knew, Stiles was the only one who had seen it. 

Scooting closer, connected the whole way down their sides, he too stared out over the water, the moon reflecting of it transforming it into a magic pool, the sorts only seen in stories.

"Look, no matter how far away we might go, you will always be able to protect us. We could be round the other side of the world and we'd still feel safe. Just knowing you're here, taking care of our home and ready to help us at the tiniest hint of trouble, is enough to help us. Honestly. Plus, they're not going that far away."

"...you are..."

The words were so soft he almost missed them. As it was, he couldn't help but break his gaze away from the water to look at the man next to him. He couldn't tell much from his profile, still firmly looking ahead as he was, but Stiles was sure he could see genuine concern, vulnerability even. 

Shockingly enough, Stiles wasn’t actually sure what to say. He must have stayed quiet too long, because he felt Derek stiffen next to him, as though he was going to stand up and move away, his walls shooting back up to cover his small show of humanity.

Stiles was in no way having that, so before he could stand, he wrapped an arm around the brooding wall of a person next to him. 

If possible, Derek stiffened up even further, but when Stiles refused to let go, instead squeezing slightly tighter, he finally began to settle. 

Once it was no longer like trying to hug a brick wall, Derek actually relaxing into his arms and that vulnerable air about him again, Stiles spoke.

"I'll come back Derek. I promise. I'll always come back."

This must actually have been what Derek needed to hear, as he twisted towards Stiles more and wrapped an arm around his back in return.

It should have felt awkward or unusual at least, but it didn't. It felt, for reasons unknown, natural. 

Resting his head on Derek's shoulder, they stayed like that, arms around each other as they stared out over the water, lost in their own little worlds yet connected as well, for what felt like a very long time. 

So long in fact, that Stiles eventually must have fallen asleep. The last thing he remembered was being carried in strong, warm arms before being tucked into his sleeping bag. 

And maybe, just maybe, the press of soft lips on his forehead before he slipped into a peaceful sleep.

“Stiles!”

He jerked awake suddenly, nearly head-butting Lea who had been bent over him, face mere centimeters away, gently shaking his shoulders. He fell back less than gracefully, clutching both his side and his heart.

“Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!”

She cackled, ruffling his hair and sitting back on her haunches. Why oh why had he not recognized the obvious soul deep evil she was hiding when they first met? 

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. What do you want then?” he mumbled darkly, glaring at her for disturbing the best nights sleep he’d had since all this started.

“Well I’m not telling you now. Not if you keep evil eying me like that.” 

She stood up and spun on her heels in mock offence, striding over to her bag and grabbing something from off the floor, keeping her back turned so he couldn’t see what it was.

“Oh for God’s sake…Fine! Oh great and wonderful Lea, what pray tell did you wake me from my deep and happy slumber to inform me of? Please oh please tell me for I will surely die from the not knowing!” 

He injected as much drama as he could into his voice and ended up sounding like some kind of posh Shakespearean actor.

“Well there now, that wasn’t so hard!”

She spun quickly and genuinely, full on skipped over to him, throwing something over his face.

Pulling it off he saw it was a towel. Confused, he looked up at her manically grinning face.

“Erm, why did you throw a towel at me?”

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe it’s something to do with me having a wander through to the motel bit and finding AN ACTUAL WORKING SHOWER!! WITH ACTUAL HOT WATER!”

The sheer glee that radiated off her when she practically screamed this at him allowed him to momentarily ignore the fact she went alone and just enjoy the moment with her. The promise of hot water also helped. Just a bit.

“No way!! Seriously!? There is a God!!”

They cheered and hugged each other. Stiles never before thought he’d be so happy about the prospect of having a shower. 

“Right, help me up then! How far is it?”

“Not far at all. You know that door you nearly fucking died in front of? Well through there was the staff entrance to the motel! So I snuck through and looked around, and you can moan at me later okay so just shut up and enjoy it for now, and then I found a board with all these room keys on, picked the first room and got in. It was totally safe and empty before you freak out! So naturally the first thing I checked out was the shower! Okay no, that’s a lie. First I checked out the mini bar. But then I checked the shower! I wasn’t expecting anything but it starting clanking and then came out, and then went hot! I could have sworn I’d died and gone to heaven. So I came straight back here to get you! So come on, let’s get gone.”

He smiled at her excitement. It was such a relief seeing her act like a human again, even if he did suspect it was mostly for his benefit whilst he was hurt and needed her. 

Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up, ignoring the pain until he was sat up. If he had any chance of convincing her to leave today, he’d bloody well show her he could deal with it.

She moved behind him muttering something that sounded faintly like “stubborn jerk” and put her arms under his armpits.

“On three okay?” she said, before counting and helping Stiles haul himself up until he finally stood on shaky feet. Christ on a bike it hurt! Refusing to let even the smallest whimper escape him, he forced his legs to stop shaking and motioned for Lea to step back.

She let go and moved back slightly; arms still out to grab him should he start to fall. It felt for a moment like the only thing keeping him upright was the sheer force of the Stilinski will, as pain roared through his body like wildfire. 

“You okay?” she asked, voice thick with concern.

“Mhmm” he forced out, teeth still clamped shut. Whether she saw what a load of shit that was or whether she would have done it anyway, she stuck her arm out and linked it through his.

“Use me as a crutch dickhead. I don’t want to wait centuries for your sorry ass to hobble there, I want a shower!”

Smiling at her obvious attempt to save his pride, he nodded and they started moving slowly towards the door.

“Wait! Where’s my bat? I want it” 

She tutted and shook her head, but went and grabbed his bat from near his bag anyway. He knew he wouldn’t be very much use right now, but it made him feel naked going anywhere without it.

With that in his right hand and Lea linking him on his left, they finally made it out of the door, looking around carefully regardless of how safe he’d been assured it was. He’d already messed up here once already, with near fatal results, and he’d be damned if he’d let it happen again. 

Well, at least not until he’d showered.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N Urgh, once again I really am sorry my loves! Real life is kicking my arse at the moment! I got bad news at the hospital which wasn't very fun and uni is a bitch. Plain and simple :p So I've hardly had time to sleep let alone write! It's been dreadful! I've had withdrawals!! So I'm afraid this isn't the chapter I was hoping to crank out but it's better than nothing. Next chapter has much more excitement I promise! So I really hope you enjoy it anyway :) Also, I really just want to say a huge thanks to all the people who follow this story and all those who comment and give me kudos. It really warms the cockles of me heart and I love you all ever so much ^__^ So yeah, hope you are all well and that this isn't too much of a let down. Toodle pip :) 

 

Oh dear sweet holy God!! He was in heaven!! Seriously, he’d died and was now in heaven. Hot fucking water! He was showering in hot water! And it was beyond amazing!

Stiles stood under the hot spray of water, an expression of pure bliss on his face. The water soothed his aching body, washing away day’s worth of grime and filth, leaving him feeling actually human. It should be illegal how happy the simple pleasure of taking a shower had made him.

“Hurry up beauty queen! I want to get in there sometime this century!”

Urgh. As much as he wanted to stay in there till the world sorted itself out, he supposed it wasn’t fair on Lea.

“Fine! But only because I’m getting really sick of your stink!”

“Cheeky little shit” she said, throwing one of the little soaps they found on the sink over the shower curtain, trying to hit him on the head.

He cackled, feeling lighter than he had in weeks! Showers really were good for the soul. He had a last rinse, tipping his face up into the stream of water with a smile and letting it run over him before he shut it off to get out.

“You still out there?” he asked from behind the curtain.

“Where else would I be you pleb?”

“Oh shut up, you know what I mean. Turn around or something.”

He heard her scoff but shuffle about, presumably moving away, so he stuck his head out of the curtain and seeing her facing the other wall, he carefully stepped out of the shower, using the walls as support until he reached the radiator and snagged his towel from it.

He wrapped himself up in it, carefully avoiding his wound and moving slowly over to the toilet, shutting the lid and sinking gratefully on to it. Just standing up in the shower had exhausted him! But no way was he going to let Lea know because whether he had to drag her out by her ears, they were leaving today. 

His dream had rekindled the pure, unquenchable desire to get home. He actually needed to see the people he loves again. It was like an ache, a physical pull inside him drawing him back home. He couldn't bare it any longer; he just needed to be back home.

"Can I turn around now?"

"Oh right! Yeah sure, I’m good."

Lea turned around and came over, ruffling his wet hair with a grin.

"Right, keep your eyes closed while I get in and then once I'm out I'll re-bandage your side. Just keep it nice and dry now."

He nodded and turned sideways on the toilet to face the other wall as Lea started getting undressed. He was humming to himself when he felt something land on his head. He jumped and grabbed the offending object, pulling it off his head to see it.

A bra. The bloody woman had thrown her bra on his head.

"Oh you tart."

She cackled madly and stepped into the shower, turning on the water and letting out a moan that was borderline pornographic! Not that he blamed her though; he did exactly the same thing.

Setting her bra down on her pile of clothes, he stood up and hobbled over to the mirror at the far end of the bathroom. He wiped the steam from it and looked at himself for the first time in days.

He looked like shit.

No, seriously, he has never looked so rough in his entire life, and considering the state he was in on Fresher’s Week, that was seriously saying something.

His skin was so pale it was practically translucent and his eyes looked beyond tired, surrounded by large, dark circles. His lips were chapped and sore from all the times he’d bit them out of fear or pain and his cheekbones were more prominent than normal.

But as he dropped his towel to wrap it around his waist, he actually let out a gasp of surprise at what he saw.

His entire torso was covered in bruises and scrapes and little cuts. His ribs were dusted with purples and blacks, his back the same. The worst however, was the stab wound in his side.

It was the first time he’d actually seen it and Jesus Christ it was impressive. It was about four inches long and pretty gory looking. It was stitched up and though Lea obviously did her best, they weren't too neat. The whole area looking red and slightly inflamed and was absolute agony to touch. It throbbed with every beat of his heart and he knew that if the knife had gone any deeper, he wouldn't have made it.

Forcing himself to look away from his skinny, wrecked body, he moved back to the toilet and sat on the lid again, listening to the soothing sound of running water and enjoying the bathrooms warmth. He hadn't felt warm in a long time.

After a few moments however, his ADHD started shouting at him, as he'd been sat still without doing anything for too long. He hated this feeling, like something was moving under his skin and the only way to stop the feeling was to move, to do, to speak. So seeing as his meds were down to one lonely tablet that he was saving for emergencies, he decided to sing.

He was humming and singing under his breath, quite happy with his method of distraction when he heard a quiet sniffle. He stopped, listening hard to figure out the noise. Was there some infected outside the door, outside the window?

There it was again, more sniffling. Then he heard a whimper and all of a sudden it hit him.

Lea was crying. She was in the shower crying.

Now that he knew what he was listening for, it was so much more obvious. Muffled sobs and sniffles just audible above the water, as though she were trying her best to be silent. It broke his heart.

He pulled himself up and staggered over to the shower, stopping just outside of the curtain.

"Lea? Lea are you okay? What's wrong?"

Okay, maybe that was a stupid question. Coz let's face it, what isn't wrong would be more appropriate.

"He...hhhe's gone Stiles! He's gggone!" she sobbed out, abandoning her attempts to stay quiet completely. She sucked in giant, heaving breaths and started sobbing, hyperventilating between each one.

Stiles was rooted to the spot. He knew this was bound to come, having gone through the process of loosing someone himself, but now that it was here he felt lost.

He heard her sink to the floor of the shower and start crying and heaving in earnest, gasping for air that she could never quite seem to get. Suddenly, he knew what to do.

Grabbing one of the other towels off the radiator, he opened the curtain, ignoring Lea's protest as he draped the towel over her before getting in beside her.

They sat side by side wrapped in drenched towels, warm water cascading over their heads. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to him, ignoring the lancing pain in his side and just held her close, tucking her head under his chin and slowly rocking her.

She cried and cried and cried, the kind of tears born of utter heartbreak. She shook madly, prompting Stiles to briefly reach above him and turn the water hotter, before pulling her in as close as he could and just being with her. Just letting her know she wasn’t alone.

They stayed like that for a long time, Lea breaking apart in his arms as he quietly held her. He didn’t speak because this kind of grief was one no words could touch. Nothing he could possibly have said would help her pain or bring her round, he could only wait until she’d cried herself out and talked to him first. He knew this first hand.

Eventually her sobbing began to slow, Stiles’ hand rubbing over her back encouraging her to slow her breathing and to come back to herself. She caught her breath and her shaking eased up a bit, though she was by no means calm yet. She pulled her head away from his shoulder slightly, sniffing and rubbing her hands over her face with a tiny murmured “sorry”.

Stiles pulled back slightly so he could see her face, holding it between his hands and running his thumbs along her cheek, looking dead in her red raw eyes.

“Don’t you dare say sorry Lea. Not for one second should you feel the need to apologize. You lost Dan. We both lost Dan. He deserves to be cried over.”

He spoke gently but firmly, still stroking his thumbs along her cheeks, wiping away each tear that streamed down her face. She looked at him, eyes raw and empty and asked, “will it ever go away?”

God, she sounded so small, so broken and it hurt more than any knife ever could. Stiles found himself utterly torn. Did he lie and try to make her feel better or tell the truth?

No, in the end there was no choice. He owed it to her to be honest. She needed that from him.

"...no Lea. No it won't. It's like…it’s like you've been wounded. Something painful and ugly, something that's gone right through you. And the pain is atrocious, blinding, and it feels like it'll never leave you. And it won't. Time will pass and the wound will heal over, but it's jagged and rough, it's ugly and it never quite heals completely. But it does heal. So no, it will never go away, you'll carry the scar around with you as long as you live, but eventually the pain will lessen."

She looked at him for a while, eyes swimming before nodding somberly.

"Thank you Stiles" she whispered, voice small and thick with tears.

He nodded in reply, leaning forward to kiss her forehead and hold her close once more. They sat in silence under the water once again, lost in their own thoughts and memories, but all the while taking comfort from the presence of someone who is sharing that same pain. 

He knew they would have to move soon, both from the bathroom and the motel in general. They needed to get back on the road. But looking at Lea, he knew they could afford a little while longer. She needed this and he was going to see her through it no matter what. 

Midday. They would leave then. Nodding to himself, Stiles held Lea tighter and carried on gently rocking her shivering frame, feeling so very small and fragile in his arms. 

He swore to himself there and then that he would not lose her. She would be safe. God, he wouldn't know what to do if something happened to her. She was his to protect now and he owed it to Dan to do it right. 

No. He would not lose her. He refused.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N Hello again :D I know I promised this quicker but life is really a bitch and doesn't seem to want to let me!! Tell it off guys!! I also think you should all draft a letter to my uni tutors explaining that I really cannot do all my work as it's interfering with my writing of this fic, and that really isn't acceptable so I should be given as much extra time as I want/never have to bloody do it at all. Plan?? Plan. But yeah, this was originally a lot longer but I decided to split it into two so you guys would get something to read sooner instead of getting the whole thing in a few more days. I hope it was the right move. But you'll be pleased to know that things will be moving very quick after this and we shall soon reach Beacon Hills. But is all well?? Only time will tell for you guys xD Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and, as always, would love to hear from you :) Toodle pip :)

 

Stiles and Lea had stayed under the downpour of water for around an hour, holding each other tightly and allowing their grief to run its course in its own time. Eventually though, it eased and Stiles got them out, dried and they made their way slowly back to their room in the diner.

Now they sat back to back in the middle of the floor, eating, packing their few belongings and chatting about this and that.

“Remember that night we all got so drunk we had to crawl up our ridiculous stairs but decided half way that it was too far and slept in the stairwell!?”

“Yes!! Oh God that was a mess! Awesome night though, even if I was sure I was going to die! And then old Mrs Henley came out and got a right fright with three drunken students drooling on her doorstep!”

They started laughing, lost in their memories of better days. As their laughter faded off, a comfortable silence fell over the room, but one that held the tension that promised of questions to be asked.

No sooner had he thought it, he felt Lea shift behind him and take a breath as though she was going to start talking, then stop, then do it again, then stop.

“Out with it Lea.”

She sighed, thinking for a moment before speaking.

“We have to leave today don’t we.”

It was less of a question and more of a statement, her voice quiet and almost scared.

“…yeah, yeah we do.”

She sighed again, heavily and resigned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, not liking the complete 180 in mood from about five seconds ago.

“I just…I’m scared Stiles. It’s chaos out there. It’s frightening and dangerous. And I could end up losing you too. But in here it feels safe! We know it’s almost definitely clean of zombies, easily defendable and it actually has things we can use! Like a fucking bathroom and kitchen! Jesus Stiles, it even has beds! And you want to drag us away from this out into the unknown once again! And for what! A hunch? A hope that Beacon Hills is even safe? For all you know it isn’t! For all you know, everyone there is dead!”

Silence fell over the room after her outburst. Stiles felt like he’d been slapped.

“Oh God. I’m so sorry Stiles, I’m so sorry! I didn’t think! I’m sorry!”

He knew she’d spoken out of fear, but it still hurt. It still sent shards of ice though him at the thought that she might be right. They might all be gone.

God he wanted to freak out right now. He wanted to shout and cry and probably have a panic attack, all to just get the fucking feelings out of his body and let them lose on the world. He wanted to be comforted. But he couldn’t do that. Lea was still hurting over Dan and fragile after her breakdown in the shower. She needed him to be strong right now, he needed to reassure her and put her fears to rest. Otherwise she would never trust him to lead them out of their little safe haven and back into the horrible and cruel world outside.

Swallowing his own fear and anger, he turned to face her. He took both of her hands in his and looked her dead in her wide, tear filled eyes; so full of panic and remorse.

“Okay Lea, you need to listen to me right now, okay? Yes, Beacon Hills could well have fallen too. Yes, my friends and family could all be dead. Yes, I could be leading us out of here on nothing more than a hope. But let me ask you this. What the fuck else have we got if not a hope?  
Look at the world Lea! It’s gone to shit! There’s friggin zombies wandering about for Christ sake. It’s scary and it’s dangerous and trust me, I’d love nothing more than to curl up in a little ball and hide, praying for it all to just go away. But that isn’t going to happen. So what can we do if not cling to the only hope we have left? I know Beacon Hills, it’s secluded, it has a giant forest in the middle of it and I know the people waiting for me there. I can’t explain it to you, but I just know they’re alive! You don’t know them Lea. They’re special! Trust me, if anyone would be able to survive this, it’s them.  
So if I’m right, if they are alive and Beacon Hills is mostly safe and we just stay here, what’s the point! We wouldn’t be living we’d be hiding! We might as well not have even made it if we aren’t prepared to live! To take a chance that would make being alive worth it! So you see, I have to do this. And I have to bring you with me.”

He stopped, not knowing what else to say. He couldn’t force her to come with him, as much as he might want to, so he hoped what he’d said would get through to her. He’d meant every word from the bottom of his heart and just prayed she’d trust him.

“…Derek is in Beacon Hills isn’t he?”

Stiles stiffened and just stared at her in shock.

“How the hell do you know about him?”

She looked at her lap, a small smile on her face.

“You talk about him sometimes. In your sleep. Especially after you got hurt. You were calling for him. He must be someone very special.”

He was stumped. It wasn’t like he ever meant to keep Derek a secret or anything. It’s just, well, it's complicated.

“Ahem”

He looked up at Lea, where she was obviously waiting for a response.

“Oh, erm, yeah, yeah he is” he muttered quietly.

She grinned nothing short of evilly.

“Soooo, spill the beans.”

“What!? I was just giving a pretty freaking epic speech if I do say so myself in response to you biting my head off! How did we get from that to gossip!?” he asked incredulously.

She just giggled, the little minx.

“Look, if you’re going to drag me all the way to Beacon Hills on a hope and a prayer then I want to know why. I can understand you wanting to get back to your dad so bad, and I know from experience how loyal and loving you are to your friends, but it’s different with him. He’s…special to you. I know he is. And you’ve never even talked about him, which is seriously weird for you, so spill.”

Yeah, he was busted. He’d finally have to confront some things, out loud, make them real. Shit.

“…fine. Erm, right, shit I don’t even no what to say really. Oh, hang on!”

He reached to pull his bag to him and rooted in it before slowly pulling out his beloved picture of the Pack and holding it gently to his chest, like the precious thing it is.

“Here. That’s my friends. And…that’s him.”

He passed it to her and she took it carefully, obviously understanding its importance.

“Hmm, he’s handsome”

Stiles blushed at this but didn’t say anything, only nodding very slightly, more to himself than Lea.

“So go on then. Tell me about him.”

Reaching out for the picture again, he took it and looked at it, eyes focusing on Derek; his normally serious face softened slightly, a small smile on his lips and his posture relaxed where it was pressed slightly against Stiles. He could almost feel the sturdy presence of the man next to him, the smell of his leather jacket, the heat his body always gives off.

“Okay. Well, he's sort of the...leader of our group in a way. He looks after us all and makes us better. He’s been through a lot of shit in his life. His whole family died in a fire when he was younger and it messed him up. I think he’s always blamed himself for it really, and he keeps people at arms length all the time. I think he believes it will protect him, stop it hurting if something happens to them or they leave.  
Ha, we hated each other at first you know. Just didn't get on at all. I suppose it's because he's so closed off and controlled and I'm, well, I'm me. But the more time we spent together helping our mutual friends; we just started to mix in a way.  
I just, I feel like we both compliment each other. He mellows me, grounds me and I think I make him less closed off. He's opened up a lot more than he used to, but mostly to me. I just want to help him. I want him to know I'm here and I know what it's like. I want to let him be himself and let him lower his walls. I want to look after him. I...care about him. A lot."

Stiles knew he'd probably made no sense at all, but it was like the dam had burst and this unrelated train of thought had just flooded out. Honestly, it was more about talking to himself than Lea. Actually saying things he never had before, admitting it and confronting it. He'd promised himself he'd confront everything when he got home and actually saw Derek, but it seemed he wouldn't be able to wait.

"Do you care about him or do you _care_ about him?"

Stiles didn't reply, just carried on looking at the picture. This seemed to be answer enough for Lea though, as she nodded and stood up.

"Right then, let's get packed up. We need to get you home so you can tell him. Everyone needs a chance at love and it sounds to me like you two have a major case of things left unsaid. So come on, let's get gone while it's still light."

Stiles just looked at her in shock. She was smiling softly but had a sad look in her eyes. He knew she was thinking about Dan.

Seeing his hesitation she smiled softly once again, seeming to understand exactly what was bothering him.

"I loved Dan with every part of my being. He was the best and most amazing person I've ever met and probably ever will. He really was my everything."

She stopped, stepping in front of Stiles and holding out a hand.

"Everyone needs the chance to have a Dan."

Smiling in return, Stiles took her hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. Once he was stood up, he grabbed Lea into a hug and pressed a kiss to her cheek and whispered his thanks to her.

When they finally pulled apart, they each quickly wiped their eyes, hoping not to let the other see but giggling when they saw they were both in the same boat.

"Right, well let's get sorted then. Pack everything we possibly can. Is there anything in the diner or motel that would be useful?" he asked, thinking of the pillows, bedding, toilet paper and mini bottle of body wash that were in the motels rooms.

She nodded, "you get what you can packed in here, I'll make a run to the motel for supplies and see if there was anything you missed in the diner."

As much as he didn't want her going off on her own, he knew he'd be no use to her right now anyway. He'd probably only endanger her more if anything. So he nodded his agreement and watched as she gathered a mostly empty rucksack and her trusty crowbar and knife combo. She clapped him on the back before heading out the door, leaving him alone in the room.

It was like a switch had been flipped. The second her eyes were no longer on him, all energy and force of will fled him, leaving his legs to shake and give out from under him. He grabbed at the wall, sliding less than gracefully down it and ending up in a heap at the bottom.

His chest heaved and his head pounded. Jesus Christ he was in agony! Whilst Lea was here, he had to cover his pain and how much he was struggling. He had to appear strong and in control, not to mention comforting her during her breakdown. But now he was alone, and he could hold the facade no longer.

He curled up into a ball, protecting his injured side and making himself as small as possible. His hand went automatically to his necklace and he clung tight to it. How the fuck was he going to get home like this!?

No. He couldn't think like that. Not an option. He would man the fuck up and deal with it. He had a Sourwolf to get home too, and no amount of pain was going to stop him.

About an hour later Stiles and Lea stood in front of the back door once again. They each held tightly to their weapon of choice and had bags hanging off them like packhorses.

Well, mostly Lea did as Stiles’ injury prevented him from carrying anything too heavy, but still, they had a lot of stuff. Her search through the motel had been seriously fruitful and they now had a lot more invaluable supplies for the trip.

The thing is, they’d been stood there for a good five minuets, staring at the shut door and totally unable to move. They were shitting it.

Stiles knew he needed to man up here, as he was the one that had encouraged them to leave, but he was actually scared. No matter what had happened in this zombie shitstorm so far, no matter what situation they stepped into, he’d always been able to fight.

He’d always been able to protect himself and, much more importantly, the people he loved. Right now it was only one person, but that was still far beyond his capabilities at the present time. He couldn’t even use his freaking bat! He had to use his dagger, its sheath secure at his side, and stow his bat away in the bag on his back. He felt a bit naked without it.

Still, they need to move. They need to move. Oh for fuck sake, MOVE STILES!

Shouting at himself seemed to help, as it jolted him out of his paralysis.

“Come on Lea, we can do this. We can. Whatever we come across out there, we’ll get over it. We’ll beat it. We can do it.”

She nodded shakily, face pale and looking just as scared, if not more so, than himself. Holding out a probably very clammy hand, he grabbed onto hers, squeezing it tight in comfort.

“We’ll do it together. On the count of three okay? One, two, three”

Not allowing either of them time to back out, he reached out and opened the door.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N Hey my lovelies :D First off, I want to say a HUGE thank you to MasterTLA for the absolutely wonderful chibis she's done of Stiles and Lea :D They are amazing so do check them out :)   
And as promised, this is here much quicker than the last few have been :D I finished it off whilst getting my tattoo yesterday (which is awesome btw ^__^) and was originally the second half of the last chapter. Anyway, we probably have about two/three chapters tops before we hit Beacon Hills now! Eeeek!!! You all getting nervous yet?? xD Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it and that I might get left a few little comments, as they seriously makes me ever so happy ^__^ So yeah, I'm off to get all snuggled up in my bed and watch LOTR now and I really hope you all like it and have a great day/night :) toodle pip :) 

 

Stiles was momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight, forcing him to throw one arm up to shield his eyes against the glare. Staying still in the doorway till his eyes adjusted, he finally lowered his arm and surveyed the area in front of him.

The bodies were all still there, much more rotten and attracting even more flies though unfortunately. But that's all they were; just normal dead bodies. Stiles stepped out first, motioning for Lea to stay there and stay quiet as he made his way out onto the grass in front of the door.

He knew he probably should have let Lea go first, as she was currently their best fighter, but his rationalization of it was that he was already injured and he'd rather him risk himself than her.

He moved right into the middle of the circle and saw that so far, they were clear. Nodding to Lea, he motioned her to come out and she made her way swiftly over to him.

Stiles' jeep was on the other side of the building they'd come out of and it meant moving through the alley first. He knew this is where it could get tricky, as it was a tight fit and they couldn't see down it until they were actually travelling through it. 

They also had no idea what was on the other side. For all he knew, there could be a freaking congregation of zombies between them and the jeep. But they could hardly turn back now, so onwards and upwards.

They moved side by side to the entrance and got their weapons ready. Once again going against what was probably wise, Stiles moved in front and they started down alley in close single file.

Looking around, he was sure that zombies had been along here since they'd first come down it, as more of the bins had been tipped over and there were scratches all around the high window, the one that would have led into the store room of the kitchen. 

He was almost certain that the level upped zombies would have figured out how to smash the window and get inside, and neither of them would have known till it was too late. At least he knew making them leave was the right decision now.

They reached the end of the alley with no excitement and Stiles once again went ahead to scope it out. Sticking his head around the side of the alley, he surveyed the area between him and the jeep. He could just see it from where he was standing and so far the path looked clear.

He was just about to step out when he saw two pretty decomposed zombies amble along in front of the jeep. Normally he would have been straight out there and bashing their brains in by now, but it’d only cause more harm than good.

Not to mention the fact that Lea would probably bash his brains in.

So he reluctantly let Lea take point and move forward out of the alley. The infected immediately noticed her and began dragging themselves over, arms out and snatching, pathetic moaning filling the air.

She jogged straight over and smacked the first in the head with her crowbar, tugging it back out viciously with a sickening squelch. It dropped to the ground, twitching slightly before falling still.

Moving on to the next she aimed for the head once again, but this time the crowbar went too deep, its curved end stuck behind the bone of the zombie’s skull. She tugged but it wouldn't come free.

She struggled with it before the zombie forced its way forward, sending Lea sprawling backwards on the floor. Pure adrenalin coursed through Stiles and he grabbed his dagger from its sheath, took aim and threw it.

Bullseye. It flew through the air and hit the zombie right in its head, sticking in all the way to the hilt. It staggered, jaw chomping and moaning before finally falling backwards.

Stiles whooped in exhilaration.

“Fucking yes!! Holy God that was awesome!! I really am batman!!”

He also made the stupid move of fist pumping into the air and pulling his side, which sent him clutching at it and hissing in pain. Luckily it did nothing to dampen how awesome he felt at making that shot.

Making his way slowly over to Lea, he gingerly helped her up. One stood, she pulled him into a quick hug and whispered her thanks before moving to the zombie and pulling both his dagger and her own crowbar from its rotting head with a truly disgusting noise.

She wiped them both off on its torn clothes and handed Stiles his. They did a quick survey of the area and upon seeing no more infected, shouldered their bags and moved towards the jeep.

Moving quickly just in case, they loaded up the boot and climbed in. Lea had to help him in, as he never realized how high up his jeep was, and then climbed into the drivers seat. 

He was dubious about letting her drive his baby, but he knew it would be stupid and pretty much impossible for him to drive in his current state. He was already exhausted from just leaving the diner! Plus, Lea was really standing no shit and he feared for his safety should he try and argue. That girl could be scarier than any zombie when she wanted to.

Giving her some brief directions, they finally set off. Looking back, he watched the diner get smaller as they sped down the road and he truly hoped he’d made the right decision.

Reaching for his necklace, he held it tight and thought of his dad, the Pack and, of course, Derek. Yes, something in his heart told him he was making the right decision. He was sure he’d have felt it if they were dead. Surely he would know if the people he loved more than anything on this earth were no longer living.

He also thought of the other reason he was so desperate to get home. The reason that he’d kept secret from Lea.

He knew the world had gone to shit and despite his hope that they would be able to make a life for themselves in Beacon Hills, he wasn’t naive. It could never go back to the way it was and he knew it would more than likely get worse.

So if it really was the end, if they were all destined to die, he wanted to be with them when the time came. He wanted to die with the people he loved. He needed to. So for better or worse, he was going home.

Ten minuets into the journey, his eyes started to droop, the effort of leaving the diner and pushing through the pain all catching up with him. He tried to stay awake, but eventually he had no choice and he drifted of into an uneasy sleep.

Stiles came back to consciousness slowly, gradually becoming aware of Lea saying his name and the car slowly coming to a stop.

"Wha? Why're we stopping?" he asked blearily, heaving himself up in his seat and rubbing his gritty eyes. 

"We're running out of gas. There's a gas station just up the road and from what I can see, there's quite a few cars abandoned around it, so if the pumps are empty I'm sure we could figure out how to syphon the tanks."

He nodded, he was pretty sure he could do it. It never looked that hard on telly or in movies, they just put a tube in and then sucked it up and poured it into a container of some kind. He could totally do that.

"Yeah, sounds good. Why've you stopped here then?"

She looked confused for a second.

"Well, because I wanted to ask you first of course. Whether you thought it was a good idea. I mean, there could be God knows how many infected in there and I dunno, you just always know what to do."

She sounded so honestly sincere that it surprised him a little. But actually, once he started thinking back on it, it wasn't actually so strange that she felt she needed to ask him first. From the very outset, he seemed to be the one calling the shots. 

It threw him for a moment, as he honestly hadn't really been aware of doing it. He just had the most experience at dealing with crazy supernatural shit so could swallow his fear better and think his way out of a situation. Apparently this had made him into a sort of, well, a sort of leader he supposed. 

"Stiles?"

"Oh right. Erm, yeah, I agree with you. We'll be practically running on fumes soon so we need to fuel up sooner rather than later and that does seem like the most likely spot to find some. But worst comes to worst, there should be more abandoned cars the further up we go so we can try there. Hopefully we won't have to though."

She nodded, seemingly satisfied to continue now that the plan had his approval. 

“You’re right though, there could be infected in there, so we need to be smart. We’ll park up, get out and do a very quick scout. If we don’t see any zombies in our immediate vicinity, we start checking the pumps for gas and, failing those, the cars. One of us will keep a look out while the other collects the gas and tanks up the jeep, then we move. We have enough supplies to last us so I don’t fancy chancing a trip inside. Sound good?”

She nodded again in agreement and slowly moved the jeep forward, trying to be as quiet as possible. Once they were close enough to it, but still in a good position to make a quick get away if needed, they stopped and got out, Lea once again having to help him down. 

God he hoped this healed up a bit soon, he hated being dependent on others. Not because he didn’t trust Lea or appreciate her help, just because he always liked to do things under his own steam. He’d much rather be the one doing the helping than receiving it. 

Taking out there weapons, they moved quickly and quietly into the middle, looking on all sides for any sign of the infected. Seeing none, Stiles nodded to Lea to check the pumps on her side as he moved to do the same for his. 

Nope, his were empty, and a quick glance at Lea told him she hadn’t had any luck either. They’d have to try the cars.

He motioned her over with a hand, mouthing for her to keep a look out as he checked and hopefully got fuel from at least one of the seven cars abandoned around the station.

He shuffled over to the jeep and opened the boot; taking out the spare bit of tubing he grabbed from the flat before they left and the two empty gas cans. With equipment in hand, he moved over to the first car he spotted and opened the gas tank. Now, this was probably going to be gross. Like, really gross. But there was no other choice so he just had to suck it up.

Ha, pun actually not intended.

Sticking the tube into it, he cast another eye around for any infected and then started sucking on the other end of the tube. Luckily, as the tube was clear, he managed to stop sucking just before he ended up with a mouth full of fuel, sticking his thumb over the top as he grabbed the container before putting the tube inside and watching with great satisfaction as it began pouring into it.

All too soon it came to a stop, leaving the container just over half full. He’d expected this though and would just have to hope that the rest of the cars all had just enough to fill the two containers.

Moving to the red car on his right, he repeated the actions. This time there seemed to be more left in it, as it filled the container the whole way and still had a bit left over for the second. 

Maybe they’d get lucky this time and find enough to stick in the tank and some left over to carry with them. He really hoped that would be the case, they surely deserved some slack right about now. Karma must owe them just a little.

He moved on through the cars, collecting enough to fill both containers up to the top with two cars still left. Sending a quick thanks to karma, he moved back to his jeep and began filling it up, before heading to empty the last two cars.

By the time Stiles was finished, one of the containers had been filled and he was feeling exhausted. Very happy and relieved, but seriously tired. He was also starving hungry and so thirsty his mouth felt like the Sahara. Gas fumes were not the nicest things to be sucking into your mouth and he was eager to get rid of the taste as quick as possible.

Making his way over to the jeep and storing the cans and tube inside, he beckoned Lea over from where she’d been stood on watch with a smile. She high fived him with a grin and together they got back in the jeep and pulled away, marveling at their luck. 

“I can’t believe that went so smoothly! I thought for sure we’d run into some infected and have to do another daring escape!”

“Touch wood Lea! Don’t jinx it!” he cried in mock panic, making them both giggle in glee. They so needed something like this, for just something to go right for a change and make them feel like they did actually have a chance after all. It was such a relief.

He just hoped their luck would last.


	22. Chapter 22

IMPORTANT A/N PLEASE READ MY LOVELIES!!! 

Hey guys :D Once again I'm ever so sorry for the wait, but thank you for all the comments and kudos and for sticking with me :) Okay, so, important bit now. As I've mentioned before, I'm ill and often drop off the face of the earth as I'm too sick to do anything. This is unfortunately what's happened recently and I'm really not very well at all to put it mildly. So I'm off to hospital down in London for a few weeks on the 3rd of March (which sucks coz it means I'll be in hospital for my 20th birthday!) and the internet is far from reliable. So I'll be writing as much as I can but cannot guarantee when I'll be posting. I'll do my upmost though I promise you that :) So yeah, wish me luck guys and seriously, thanks so much for everything and I really hope you carry on sticking with me and enjoying the fic :) Love you all and toodle pip for now :) 

 

They travelled for half an hour more before their hunger got the best of them and they were forced to pull over and eat.

It was a beautifully sunny day, the blue sky hanging mockingly over the dark, grey world underneath. He both hated it and loved it.

Lea had helped him out of the car again and he now sat on a grassy bank that ran along the side of the road, back lent against the side of the jeep behind him. It was lovely to take a moment to just breathe.

He watched Lea potter about, getting the food bag out of the boot and bringing it round to the front of the jeep and plonking herself down next to him.

"Okay, so, we have the lovely choice of breakfast bars, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, a juice box, some more breakfast bars and, you guessed it, even more breakfast bars!" 

He snorted and reached over too quickly to grab a Reese's and a juice box, the movement pulling his already painful side, making him hiss involuntarily and grasp it.

"Stiles? Stiles! Have you been in pain and not telling me!? You idiot! Let me have a look, we need to make sure you haven't pulled your stitches or started getting an infection. That is literally the last thing we need."

He groaned but relented, allowing Lea to lift up his top, but not without a dash of his usual sarcasm of course.

"Slow down there darlin! Buy me dinner first at least!" 

Without missing a beat, she reached behind her and grabbed a breakfast bar, throwing it in his lap before continuing to pull his top off.

He chuckled at his friend, once again realizing how happy and lucky he was to have her with him. He'd be dead by now on his own. Or insane. 

Once he was topless, she made him sit up as straight as he could whilst she unwound his bandages. He prayed that nothing was wrong, but with how much it hurt, he really wouldn't be surprised.

After the first two layers had been unwound, he started to see blood soaking the makeshift bandages, getting worse the further in they went.

"Oh no Stiles, I don't like this. It doesn't look good."

She sounded worried, so Stiles was a bit concerned to say the least. He hoped it was only a few pulled stitches though, as that could be fixed. An infection…not so much.

She finally reached the last of the bandages and discarded them to one side, reaching out to remove the completely saturated wad protecting his wound.

It hurt to say the least, and his eyes were watering by the time she finally peeled it away.

"Shit"

Stealing himself, he looked down and took in the bloody mess of his wound.

"I should have checked earlier, I'm so sorry Stiles. That must have seriously been hurting. You've pulled the stitches but it doesn't look infected at this point. Though we'll have to keep an even closer eye on it from now."

He grimaced and nodded, not liking where this was probably going to go.

"I'm afraid I'll have to stitch it up again. And...we don't have any painkillers."

Yup, there it is. Fuck. Taking as deep a breath as he could, he nodded. This was going to hurt. Like a bitch. 

“Okay, let me get my stuff.”

She moved out of his line of sight and he heard her rustle about in the bags whilst he stared down at the mess of his side. It looked angry and painful. Like, her knew it was painful but it actually looked it. It was bleeding sluggishly and half of his stitches were torn, the skin around them ripped and leaving the two sides of the wound gaping. 

Yeah, it wasn’t pretty.

Before he could look at it any more, Lea came back, brandishing the first aid kit and dropping down beside him once more. 

"Okay Stiles, we need to lie you down, and it's hardly hygienic but the floor covered with a spare sheet will have to do, and then I'll stitch it up again. But err, yeah, we haven't got any painkillers beyond paracetamol. So it’s a shut up and put up job I’m afraid.”

Despite the jokey callousness of her words, Stiles knew his friend well enough to see that she was actually really nervous. She was pale and jittery, not seeming able to stay still for longer than a few seconds and spending longer than was needed to get everything out of the bag, and twiddling with it over and over once she had.

“Lea. Lea look at me okay? It’s okay. Really. I’m a rough, tough manly man okay? I can deal with it. And I know you’ll do a great job. It wasn’t your fault they tore in the first place, it was me doing too much and then staying quiet even when it started hurting more. So no blaming yourself. You’re going to calm down, go grab that bottle of whiskey I snuck from home and give it to me. Then get on with it okay? You can do it.”

She nodded, calming slightly before getting up and moving to the boot once again, coming back with the large bottle of whiskey that was originally a present for his dad that he’d taken from the apartment before they left. He knew it would come in handy at some point. 

“Yeah, great idea. I can sterilize my stuff properly now, as well as the wound.”

“Hmm, I was thinking more about using it to get me pissed before you start if I’m totally honest. But that works as well.”

She shook her head at him with a small smile, but handed the bottle over all the same.

“Fine, but leave enough for me to use okay?”

He nodded and saluted her, before opening the bottle and downing as much as he could in one huge gulp. 

Jesus Christ! Had he accidentally swallowed the unholy fires of Mordor without realizing? Damn that stuff burned. 

Once he’d choked down all he could without dissolving his esophagus, he handed the bottle to Lea and leaned back against the jeep, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through his body and much welcomed fuzziness setting in. 

He listened to Lea go about sterilizing her equipment and laying out a spare sheet on the ground as he tried not to think about her using said equipment to sew him back up. With nothing but whiskey to numb the pain. 

Fuck. Now he was thinking about.

He mentally shook himself. If he could face down hordes of zombies then he could damn well face this. He was a Stilinski. Stilinski’s shut up and deal.

“Okay Stiles, I’m ready. You okay?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

She nodded and offered him a weak smile that did absolutely nothing to reassure him. Seriously, it wasn’t even worthy of being called a freaking smile. It was a worried grimace at best!

With a deep breath, he moved to lie on the sheet with help from Lea, totally blocking out her nervous fusing. 

“Right, erm, yeah. Okay. Let’s do this. You sure you’re okay?”

“Oh for God’s sake just get it over with would you! Stop being nervous! You’ve done it before, it’ll be fine! Just get it done okay!”

Hmm, he probably shouldn’t have snapped at her like that. Freaking hell, he’d be shitting himself if it were the other way around. 

“Okay, look, I’m sorry for snapping at you. I’m nervous too. I know it was different last time because I was unconscious, but I was also bleeding out right? So having me awake whilst you do it has got to be better than having me bleeding out and potentially dying! So don’t worry yeah? Just, give us another sip of that whisky first.”

She passed it over with a nod, still looking nervous but more determined now. Like she’d given herself a good mental smack and was about to get shit done. Now he just had to grow a pair and be brave for her sake. If he started shrieking like a banshee then she’d bolt for sure. He had to man up. 

Once he’d necked more whisky, he lead down on the sheet and stared up at the sky thinking about nothing more than home, his friends and Derek. He once again gripped his necklace tight and was sure that by the time he actually got home, he’d have the imprint of it on his palm forever. 

Jumping slightly when Lea’s face appeared above him suddenly, he eyed the nasty looking curved needle she held in her hand with great distaste.

“Okay Stiles, I’m going to get started now. I have to sterilize it with the whisky first though, and I’m not going to lie, it is going to sting like a bitch. So I’m sorry, really I am. I mean, it it’s your own fault really for keeping two incredibly sharp knives in your pocket in the first place and then fucking landing on them, but hey! Okay, I’ll stop rambling now.”

She moved out of his sight mumbling to herself and he just shook his head and huffed out a laugh. Even in the direst of situations, she never failed to make him laugh. He couldn’t wait to introduce her to his friends; they were going to absolutely love her. God help Derek when she saw him though. He was doomed. Actually, God help him when Stiles saw him! He’d-

“Oh holy Jesus fuck ouch!!!!!”

If he though drinking whisky burned then having it poured on AN OPEN BLEEDING STAB WOUND was actually torture! Seriously! 

“Sorry sorry sorry!! It’s done now though. And I really need you to stay still for this next bit okay?”

He lead back again from where he’d partially jolted up at the sudden pain and gritted his teeth, the edges of his necklace biting into his palm with how tight he’d gripped it. 

“Want to finish off the bottle?”

“Oh God I love you”

Accepting the bottle gratefully he downed the last few mouthfuls eagerly, the burn of it feeling like absolutely nothing now. He was definitely on his way to being drunk thank God, as whisky on a pretty much entirely empty stomach was a lethal mix. He just hoped it would be enough. 

Feeling the cold metal against the raw edge of his wound, he gritted his teeth. He could do this. He had too.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N Hello my dears!! Woohoo!! Managed to fit one more chapter in before hospital :D We're on the home stretch now guys, though it sucks that my hospital stay coincides with this chapter, as it's probably going to be the one just before they reach Beacon Hills! Ah well, at least it'll hold you all in suspense eh :p Think of it as like a mid season finale :D As I said last time though, I will be writing any spare moment I get and will try my hardest to post whilst I'm there. So here you go guys, I hope you enjoy it and will all bear with me over the next couple of weeks :) Love you all! Toodle pip :) 

 

The first slide of cold metal into raw flesh was agony. The sharp sting of the needles entry quickly being overpowered by the horrific pain of having two sides of a gaping wound pulled together.

He let out a hiss of pain and bit his lip hard but allowed himself no more than that. Lea was already pale and apologizing at that show of pain alone, anything more would make this exceedingly difficult for both of them. Best to just tough it out so as not to make her panic, that way it would be over as quickly and easily as it could. 

As the second stitch went in and pulled the skin closed, he bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. God he was so fucking sick of blood. He’d seen far too much of it recently. He felt like he was surrounded by the stuff, the taste and the smell of it never quite leaving him. 

Another stitch. Another wave of pain. 

Turning his fuzzy thoughts to happier things, he decided, in his infinite drunk wisdom, that now was the perfect time to dwell on all the things he’d locked up in a little box in the back of his mind. Well, more like his heart actually. These thoughts, of course, were all centered around one certain person in particular. Derek. 

Oh fuck that one hurt! 

Yeah, being pissed, in pain, home sick and generally just scared really should give him a good enough reason to justify him opening that box.

He’d been shoving stuff in it for years now; every little scrap of information he learnt about the Alpha, every quirk and character trait, every time they were together. It was probably extremely sad, but it was the only way he could deal. Stiles knew there was no chance Derek would be interested in him, so he wouldn’t even chance telling him. Instead, he would just keep filing up his box.

Then the summer happened. 

When he came back from his first year at college, things were different; their relationship had shifted into something new, something unknown. It was like constantly walking on ice. Would they stay on the solid ground of what they were both used to? Or would they plunge into something new?

It was exhausting, but at the same time, it was also…wonderful.

Aaah! He bit back a groan with great difficulty. Lea was half way now, right at the deepest part of the wound. And the most painful. It was bringing tears to his eyes and his lip was well and truly bitten to all hell. He was sure his palms would have permanent nail marks in them by now and his necklace was being gripped so tightly he was afraid of bending it. 

Thinking of the box again, he tried to block out the pain and remember the summer. 

They grew closer than Stiles had ever dreamed of them getting. If he thought he was in to Derek before, it was nothing compared to how he felt then.

He just couldn’t stop thinking about him; all of the little things he does for people that they don’t even notice, as well as all his little quirks, such as his borderline unhealthy obsession with his car. The same car they would spend hours in just talking, or not talking at all. 

Stiles loved those times. It started with a stake out, both of them in Derek’s car on the look out for a suspected rouge Omega passing through town. It was strange, the fact that they didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable in each other’s company. 

Derek started out quiet, but the more Stiles chatted away, the more he relaxed and turned out to be a rather decent person to talk to. He was still quiet mind, but it was different, Stiles knew he was listening and taking in what was being said, responding only when he actually had something to say, unlike him who talked just to fill the silence. 

That was another thing that changed. The more they met up, the more late night car conversations they had, the more Stiles felt equally as happy to just sit in silence. His ADHD wasn’t screaming at him so much, wasn’t forcing him to fill the silence with mindless chatter. He was content. It was like Derek had this calming aura about him that washed over Stiles.

Likewise, when they were together, he noticed that Derek became more talkative and open; sharing bits of himself and his past that Stiles knew for sure he hadn’t told the Pack. He felt honored and in return, he slowly began talking about his mom. 

That was probably once of the defining moments of their new dynamic. It was the anniversary of her death and he was doing what he did every year, moping about in his room before heading off to put some flowers on her grave. He was alone, as he normally was on this particular day, his dad just not up to dealing with anyone’s grief but his own, and it was weighing him down more than it had in a long while. 

Maybe it was because he had all these wonderful things going on in his life that he just wished more than anything he could share with her. He wished he could ask her advice, the kind you knew would be straight from the heart and genuinely meant to help. The kind of advice only a mother could give. 

He had been lying on his bed when he heard the unmistakable sound of a certain Alpha werewolf climbing through his window. He hadn’t moved, just asked what he wanted. He was shocked to hear that Derek had found out what today was and hadn’t wanted him to be alone.

Derek took him to the cemetery and waited whilst Stiles put his flowers on the grave and talked to it for a bit, hoping so much that his mom could really hear him. He didn’t talk for long, the lump in his throat made sure of that, and when he got back into the car he pulled his legs right up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and laying his head on his knees as he tried to get a hold of himself again.

He felt an arm slid over his shoulders, the hand coming to rest on the back of his neck and a thumb stroking his pale skin ever so slightly. 

“Talk to me” was all that was said, but it broke the damn and words spilled from his mouth quite without him realizing.

Stiles hadn’t talked about her to anyone in so long because he didn’t feel like he had the strength to, like talking about her would bring back all the thoughts and emotions he always tried to keep at bay with a goofy smile and a ten to the dozen motor mouth. 

This was different. He really talked, really told Derek just how wonderful she was and how much he missed her. And Derek listened. He listened more than anybody ever had. 

His dad had been too crushed after she died for Stiles to even mention her name let alone talk about her, and the myriad of therapists he was sent to were all shit anyway and only listened because they were paid to, so why should he share something as important as his mom with them? 

Derek actually seemed to care and, most importantly, actually knew how it felt. Once Stiles had finished talking, Derek didn’t offer up any stupid cliché condolences or any of that bollocks, he just got it, he just understood, and that was more helpful than anything else had ever been. 

They’d sat in silence for a good five minutes, Stiles trying to get control of himself, still curled in on himself and crying silently, Derek’s hand still on his neck. Eventually, he spoke.

He talked about his family, not just how bad it was when they died and his life after that, but also the joy of the time before that. They didn’t look at each other as they talked, only connected through the touch of a single hand, and somehow that made it easier. They both opened themselves up in a way they never had before, letting the other in at the same time. 

They stayed like that for a long time, siting in silence once they’d said all they could. It should have been awkward, especially as they weren’t exactly known for sharing their emotions, but it wasn’t. 

Eventually, they just got themselves back under control and left, Derek dropping him off at home with nothing more than a shared look of understanding passing between them. 

He’d never felt more connected to someone in his entire life.

Oww! For fuck sake!!

A small whimper of pain managed to escape him this time as Lea tugged a bit too hard in her efforts to pull the sides together. The flash of panic and the litany of apologies that followed were enough to make him immediately regret it but God freaking damn that hurt!

He felt a bit sick in fact, not to mention slightly emotional. Apparently thinking of someone you, to put it lightly, care very much about whilst being pretty pissed and getting stitched up on the ground of a deserted highway in the middle of the freaking zombie apocalypse was enough to make anyone pretty close to either tears or a full on breakdown. 

So Stiles felt he was more than within his rights to allow a few stray tears to make their way down his face.

“Stiles? Stiles are you okay!?”

`’Yyyeah, Or no. Not really. Coz I mean jussst look! I’m bein sewn up on a road ssside!” he slurred, “and then I ssstarted thinkin bout Derek to take my mind of thingss but that juss made it worse! Coz I really fuckin misss him! Before I left it was sso good between uss but could’ve been more!! Then all this sshit happened!!! And I juss wanna get home sso badly! An this reeaally fuckin huurts!!”

Silence met his drunken outburst, which unfortunately meant he didn’t have anything else to focus on when she put the next stitch in.

“Sson of a bitch!”

“Sorry!!”

She held her torture implements in one hand and reached out with the other to stroke his head, running her fingers through his hair. It was lovely and calmed him down a little, though he still felt super emotional and really wanted a cuddle if he was honest.

“You really do care about him don’t you.”

It wasn’t even a question, it was a statement. She knew him well. Unfortunately, this really was the last thing he needed to hear whilst pissed, emotional and led on the side of a road being stitched up.

Immediately, his eyes started to well up and a sob escaped him.

“I do! I really fucking do!” he practically wailed, fat tears falling from his eyes. 

Lea panicked a bit, not really knowing what to do, hand hovering over his head before resuming stroking through his hair and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“It’ll be okay Stiles. I promise. We’ll get you stitched up and then we’ll get back in the jeep and carry on okay? We’re not far off now right? I’m sure we could get there by nightfall if we gun it! So you just lie there and be brave and let me get this finished then we’ll be off. And then you and Derek can see each other again and have a good catch up. And by catch up I do hope you know I mean you tell him everything and then proceed to snog the life out of each other, okay? Okay. So Stiles, keep that in mind and be brave for like, three minutes longer.”

He choked out a wet laugh, roughly reaching up to wipe his eyes and nodding, settling back down onto the sheet and steeling himself for the last few stitches. 

Bloody fuck it hurt. It really did. He could try and be all macho man and say it was fine but he’d be talking shit. It really fucking hurt. 

But just as he was getting to his wits end, she tied off the last stitch and sat up with a smile.

“Okay you tough bastard you, we are done! So lets get packed up right now, we’ll eat on the way. I want us at Beacon Hills by tonight!”

Despite the pain and his slight state of inebriation, Stiles couldn’t help but smile fondly at his friend. That was however, until he heard noises. Shuffling and groaning noises. 

“…err, Lea? Can you hear that?”

She looked at him in confusion before her face fell, obviously having just heard what he had, before they stared at each other in panic.

“Lea, move!”

His voice seemed to break the spell she was in and she jumped to her feet like lightning, hiding behind the jeep and looking through its windows to the road behind it.

“Lea!” he whispered, “how many are out there?”

She didn’t answer, just kept staring out the window.

“Lea!”

She dropped down beside him once again and swiftly helped him into a sitting position propped up against the jeep. 

“Right, there’s seven I think, but they’re still a bit down the road. I recon if we hurry we can get in the car and be gone before they reach us. But we’ll have to be quick. We’ll get you in the car first and then I’ll grab our stuff and then we’ll go!” 

She flustered about, constantly throwing glances behind her at the oncoming zombie horde as she packed up her equipment and bundled up the bloody bandages.

“Shit! We need to cover the wound and bind it!”

She looked behind her again in panic.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck this is going to be close!”

He felt like he was being swept along by a tsunami when she descended on him with a thick compression pad, placing it over the wound and bandaging him up with another strip from the bed sheets. Seriously, it was like being full on manhandled!

“Right, good, that’s done. Not as well as I’d liked of course so I’ll go over it later and disinfect the wound again just in case but drastic times and all that! Oh damn I’m rambling now. Oh fuck they’re getting closer! Stiles we need to go now!”

Without waiting for a single word in reply, she practically hauled him to his feet, ignoring his small yelp of pain in her hurry to get him in the jeep. She opened the passenger side door as quick as she could and all but threw him inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

He turned around in his seat to look at the group of zombies that would soon be upon them. They really didn’t have long now and he was pretty sure that if she didn’t hurry up, the flesh craving infected would catch sight of her and then they’d be upon them even quicker. They were lucky they hadn’t been spotted already. 

Stiles watched in panic as Lea rushed around collecting their things before running to the back end of the jeep, throwing open the boot and chucking their stuff inside. The one problem with this however, was that it put her right in the zombie’s line of sight. 

Lea had obviously not realized that before she did it, but certainly cottoned on to the fact once the growls of the infected behind her increased, along with their shuffling footsteps.

“Move Lea! Come on!!”

She shot him a look of panic before slamming the boot shut and legging it around to the drivers side, throwing open the door and jumping inside, yanking the door shut behind her just in time. The zombies had reached them.

She fumbled with her keys as the zombies surrounded them, hammering on the glass and sides of the jeep. They’d soon break in if they didn’t get moving. 

Finally, she got the key in the engine and started the car, slamming her foot on the accelerator and shooting the forward, running down one of the zombies that had got in front of the jeep and knocking the ones surrounding it flying.

They gunned it down the highway like a bat out of hell and they both couldn’t help but whoop for joy, sheer exhilaration making them laugh and scream loudly, fists pumping the air and high fiving each other.

“Holy fucking damn that was so cool! How close was that!??! But I did it! I got us away! Oh my God I’m so hyped up!!”

Stiles laughed at his friend’s manic grin, even though a similar one was splitting his face as well. That really was seriously close, but they felt too full of adrenalin and the exultation at being alive to really care. All they knew was that it was a close call but they survived, and they were finally on the home stretch.

“Beacon Hills here we come!”


	24. Chapter 24

A/N HEY M'DEARS!!!!! Okay, I know this is tiny, but I've been proper ill whilst in hospital, as all the treatments ect have really made me sick and in even worse pain than normal. So yeah, I've found it hard to be alive and kicking let alone writing :p but have no fear!!! I am finally near some decent internet and feeling a bit better, so I've quickly rustled this up as a little tease to the next, much more substantial chapter than shall hopefully be finished off tomorrow :) So thank you so, so much for the patience, the well wished and the support I've gotten off so many of you :) It's really made me smile and be all chuffed ^__^ I love you all dearly :) So I hope this isn't too disappointing but if it is, just bare with me. Okay, enjoy and toodle pip :) 

 

They drove for hours, only stopping briefly to answer the calls of nature and stretch their aching legs. They ate as they drove and Lea admirably soldiered on despite being utterly exhausted. 

As harsh as it was, Stiles couldn't help but be grateful, his side was pure agony and his head felt woozy from pain and alcohol. He knew if he drove they'd end up wrapped around a tree or something.

The further they went, the more restless he felt. His stomach was heaving with nerves and he felt sick as a dog. Up until now he'd always stubbornly declared that Beacon Hills was fine, that it was safe and had missed the brunt of the infection. He said they'd be safe there and that his Pack and dad would be waiting for him.

But what if they weren't? What if Beacon Hills really was as decimated as the rest?

The mere thought made him want to either puke, curl up in a ball and cry or do a swan dive of the nearest tall building. He just couldn't cope with the idea that he was alone in the world. That Derek, his dad and his friends had all died and he wasn't there. That they would have been terrified and in pain and he wasn't there to comfort them. That he wasn't there to die with them.

He shook his head and took slow, deep breaths, fighting of the hyperventilation that had taken hold of him and the panic that was setting in. He'd cross that bridge if it came to it. And would probably then throw himself off said bridge.

He just needed to believe they were alive.

"So, according to your map, we're about half an hour away now. You okay? You look really pale. I know you're worried, but we haven't seen a single zombie around here yet. That's a great sign Stiles."

Come to think of it, it really was.

He felt a flare of hope spring up in him again. They hadn't seen anything! No zombies, no bodies, no nothing! 

No people either, the morose part of himself reminded him. And yes, they hadn't seen anybody else, but they wouldn't exactly be wandering about in the open now would they!? So that was no reason to worry yet.

Oh God oh God oh God. He was starting to recognize things! Oh shit shit shit!!

He started breathing fast and heavy, making him feel dizzy and lightheaded, the horrible churning feeling in his stomach doubling. 

To put it simply, he was shitting it.

"Oh my God we're nearly there Lea. We actually fucking made it."

His tone was nothing short of dumb struck. He could hardly believe they had made it all this way through the freaking zombie apocalypse. He half expected to wake up any second on the cold floor of the motel, still wounded from his stabbing and everything since it just being a fever dream. He only just resisted the urge to pinch himself, just in case.

Oh holy God. This was it. The start of town.

Welcome to Beacon Hills.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N Hey again m'dears :D First off, thanks again for all the wonderful messages and the well wishes ^__^ They don't half mean a lot ^__^ Secondly, today is my birthday!!!! Well, it's half 1 in the morning on my birthday but who cares!!! Today I am 20! Bloody 20! So weird :p So I'm having a lovely day with the family ^__^ Can't wait :D  
But anyway, on to the actual reason you lot are here :p This was originally much longer and part of the next chapter (which is half done already so you won't be waiting long) but I love teasing you guys way to much and the cliff hanger should be enough to get your pulses racing and your 'oh shit' meters rising xD Hopefully anyway :p So yeah, enjoy my loves :D Toodle pip :) 

 

They made their way slowly through town, the writhing ball of fear in Stiles’ stomach growing and expanding, forcing its way up his throat until he felt he was going to be sick. 

Everywhere was deserted.

Homes and shops were boarded up; signs of destruction clear on the street. Thankfully, it was no where near the level of chaos he'd seen elsewhere, so he refused to panic too much just yet. Though admittedly, that was far easier said than done. 

Moving further in, they finally saw what they'd been hoping to avoid. 

Bodies.

They weren't the moving, flesh hungry kind thank God, but horrific all the same as it proved the infection had indeed spread through Beacon Hills.

They drove slowly and carefully, avoiding the decaying bodies left out on the road. If he thought the bodies he'd seen so far were horrific, it was nothing like seeing those from your own home town.

When he finally recognized a body, he let out a pained moan, tears filling his eyes. Poor Mr Peters. He'd run a small shop and often gave Stiles free sweets when he and his mother shopped there when he was little. He was a kind man with a soft heart, friendly with all he met.

Now his throat was torn out and his face was unrecognizable, his body decaying and shrouded in flies.

They moved on, Lea reaching out to hold his hand as he simply tried to breathe. He managed to choke out directions to his house before he pulled his knees up to his chest, mindful of his wound and pushing his face into his jeans, not wishing to recognize anyone else.

Stiles stayed like that for the next five or so minutes, sniffling into his dirty, scuffed jeans and trying to keep a hold on himself. Eventually, he felt the car come to a halt. They’d arrived.

Another choked sob escaped him and he refused to lift his head up just yet. If he just didn’t look, he could still pretend everything was okay and his dad would be safe inside waiting for him. 

Once he looks, the comforting lie will be destroyed.

He hears Lea suck in a breath and his heart leaps into his throat. When he feels her lay a hand on his back, he sobs again, shaking it off, knowing exactly what it means.

"...Stiles? Stiles, I'm so sorry..."

He tore out of the jeep before she could finish and stood in front of his empty house.

The windows had all been boarded up, as had the door, and on closer inspection they had deep scratch marks littering the wood. 

He rushed over to the door, trying to ignore the gauges and dents that had splintered the wood, and pushed. It was still shut but was close to breaking in. 

Desperate, he looked around to make sure they were alone before kicking at it three times. Hard. He didn’t even feel the pain in his side, so engrossed with getting into his house.

He felt it give, so gave one final kick before it splintered open.

Standing in the kicked in doorway, staring into the darkness of his home, he felt sick to his stomach. Because he knew whatever he found in there, it would not be his father.

Stiles walked through the door and into the hallway in a daze, his head spinning and stomach heaving. He made his way shakily through to the living room and stood in the center, gazing around at the empty remnants of his home.

He heard Lea come in and stand behind him, before feeling her hand resting on his back.

“It doesn’t mean the worst Stiles…he could…it could all be fine. He probably just left. He’s probably with your friends!”

Her words managed to penetrate the fog of despair surrounding him and he clung to it like a life raft. Surely she was right, he had to be with his friends. No way would Scott or Derek allow his dad to be left behind. No doubt they would protect him as best they could. 

Yes, he was with them. He just had to be.

Slowly, he made his way on shaky legs over to the mantelpiece that always held the few pictures of his mother that they could bare to look at. But upon closer inspection, it became clear that all the frames where empty.

“Look Lea, all the pictures have gone! He must be alive! If he’d been ki-…if something had happened to him, the pictures would still be there! So he must have taken them, boarded up the house and left! So that must mean he’s with my friends!” 

He spoke with such earnest desperation that Lea obviously bit down on what she originally planned on saying, not wanting to quash his hope with a warning not to get his hopes up.

“That’s great Stiles. I’m sure that’s what’s happened. I guess we just have to find them all now. So are you ready to move yet or do you need a few minuets?” 

He nodded, indicating the latter and she left with a sympathetic smile, looking sadly around her friends empty home. 

Once alone, Stiles let himself move around his house, feeling like a ghost. What had his father been thinking when all this happened? Had he waited for his son to come home or had he believed him to be dead? Was he safe or scared or hurt? Was he with his friends or all alone?

These questions just kept running through Stiles’ mind over and over again until he felt half mad with them. He just needed to know his only living relative was okay. He needed to find him.

He refused to allow himself to move further into the house, unable to face the fact that he would probably never be able to return to the place he’d called home his entire life. 

Casting one last look around, he said his goodbyes and made as much peace with it as he could, before walking out to join his friend.

Lea was leant against the jeep, weapon at the ready and on the look out for any infected who fancied saying hello. Once he reached her, she pulled him into a comforting embrace, one that was badly needed on his part, before they pulled apart and got back into the jeep, setting off once again. 

He refused to watch his house fall behind them in the rearview mirror. 

A hand slipped into his and he gripped it tight, letting it tether him to reality and not the churning mass of what ifs that swamped his head, as they moved passed the bodies littering the street.

As they started on the path leading to the Hale house, they had no idea of the death and destruction they were leading there.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N Okay guys, next update is here :D Though I'm legitimately worried about the response I'll get once you've read it...  
So yeah, read, sort of enjoy and thanks for all the birthday messages!! Toodle pip :) 

 

The road was as bumpy as he always remembered and Stiles found himself grumbling in exactly the same way he always did when heading up the dirt track to the house. It was comforting in its familiarity. 

This time however, the bumps were more than just an annoyance and each hard jostle sent more searing pain through his already burning side. He didn’t want to tell Lea, but he was pretty sure he popped some stitches during his little freak out with front door. 

There wasn’t anything they could do for him anyhow, not until they reached somewhere to stitch him up for the third freaking time, and she’d just worry in the mean time. Best to keep it to himself and just try to be careful. If luck was on their side for once then they wouldn’t run into any infected and would be safe with his friends soon enough.

God, the mere thought of it just filled him with such indescribable joy that he felt he’d burst from it. A small smile crept onto his face, almost without his permission, as he thought of their faces when he turned up. His dad would be beyond words, unable to do any more than hug him so tight it was effort just to breath. He wouldn’t complain though, he’d be hugging him back just as tight. 

He also tried to ignore the fact he’d most likely jump on a certain someone as soon as he saw him. 

“What’re you smiling at hmm?” Lea piped up from next to him, sending him a bemused sidelong glance.

“Oh nothing, just thinking about hopefully seeing everyone.”

“Yeah. Everyone. Sure. Not a certain someone or anything.” she snorted sarcastically. 

“Oh shut up you!” he exclaimed, giving her a light flick on the ear and laughing when she yelped. They both ended up giggling as a small flick war broke out. 

He sobered up slightly as they came closer and closer, a familiar worry setting in. He was so sure they’d be here. But what if he was wrong? 

God, he was so sick of having to worry all the time! Of constantly having to make decisions that could either save them or kill them! It was just exhausting. And he was so damn tired of being tired. 

He just hoped to God everything would be okay and he’d be sleeping safe in the same house as everyone he holds dear in the world. He just hoped with all he had that it would all be okay.

The second they turned up the long drive that lead to the house, he knew it wouldn’t.

There were bodies. Fucking bodies. All over the drive. And it was impossible to tell which were infected and which were human, as they were both equally as decayed. 

A panicked noise escaped him and he threw himself from the car in a second, ignoring Lea’s shouts without a moments thought and setting off down the drive at a stumbling run.

This couldn’t be happening. Oh God this just couldn’t be happening.

He staggered to a halt in front of the house and felt his world crash about his ears.

The ground in front of the house was littered with bodies and the general debris and chaos that were usually left over after a fight. Staggering further forward he finally dragged his eyes up to look at the house he’d hoped would be their salvation.

The windows were all boarded up and deep gauges decorated them, some even looking close to being pulled off. Barbed wire was closely woven around the wooden pillars of the porch and stretched across the gap used for entering, effectively blocking all access to the front door. The front door that Stiles wished with all his heart he could rewind and never, ever see. 

Falling to his knees, he buried his face in his hands to block out what was written on that door in a large, messy scrawl of black spray paint.

Dead inside.

Through his heaving breaths, he heard Lea skid to a halt behind him, obviously having just seen the house. 

“Oh God…” he heard her gasp and he let out a sob, having half hoped it wasn’t real, just a terrifying product of his own imagination. 

She knelt down next to him and pulled him into her arms, rocking him gently as she stroked her fingers through his messy hair and whispering what he assumed were words of comfort into his ear. But how could anything bring comfort to him ever again? 

“STILES!”

And just like that, his world fell apart even more.

He tried to keep hold of Lea as she was torn from his arms but it was no use, the zombie had a better hold and dragged her away from him kicking and screaming. 

Having had no time to grab his bat before he’d left the jeep, he threw himself at the zombie’s back instead, knocking it off of her and smashing in its skull viciously with a nearby rock. But despite his best efforts, he was still too late.

Scrambling through the dirt, he skidded next to her bleeding and convulsing body and pulled her into his lap, hands trying to stem the flood of red pouring from her mutilated throat.

“It’s okay Lea, it’s okay! I’ll-I’ll save you I swea-oh God Lea please hold on! Please!! I can’t do this without you! I won’t!! I can’t be alone!! Please Lea, don’t leave me!!”

She could only gurgle in response. Blood forcing its way up her throat and pouring from her lips. Drowning her.

“Oh Lea…” he choked, tears blurring his vision as he stroked her hair, just trying to comfort her in some way.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

Stiles could do no more than hold her and talk to her as he watched the spark go out in her eyes.

Lea Jones died at the age of 20, in pain and scared on the dirty grounds of the place he’d thought would be safe. 

She died because of him.

He howled his pain out to the world, collapsing over her now unmoving body and not giving a shit about the herd of zombies he saw heading towards him.

What the fuck did he have left to live for?


	27. Chapter 27

A/N Mwuhahahahahahahahaha!!! Words can't actually describe how much I loved all your comments after that last chapter xD This must be how Moffat feels!! They got me through a tough week so thanks ever so :) So yeah, this was meant to be finished a lot sooner than this! But as per, life decided to come own my arse -.- though admittedly, the night I had free that was meant to be used for writing was spent nervously waiting and then squealing like a stuffed pig over the live Q&A with Peter Jackson and the teasers for the next Hobbit movie :D If any of you lot watched it then WASN'T IT AWESOME!!! So yeah, I apologise :) But on to the fic!!! I hope you all like it even if some of you may consider it a dreaded filler chapter. I promise the next is super content heavy and might make you want to skin me alive :D But I'm hoping the end of this will make you all like me a bit more now xD So yeah! Enjoy, I hope you're all well and toodle pip :)

 

Arms grabbed him.

They started to pull him back.

He didn’t care.

He offered no resistance apart from his tight grip on Lea, not willing to let her body go for anything. If he was going to die, he wanted to be with a friend.

The grip tightened.

This was it.

Closing his eyes in acceptance, he held Lea close to him and prepared to die.

He’d be with everyone soon.

No pain came. No teeth tearing into his flesh, eating him alive. No sharp nails ripping into his skin.

The hands shook him, sounds started to come to his attention but he couldn’t make them out, everything seeming like it was under water.

He felt Lea being pulled from his arms and he let out a desperate moan of refusal, clinging to her bloody body as hard as he could.

“…Stiles…me…come on…’s okay…”

For a moment, he was sure he could hear his name. But that was impossible. He was alone now after all. They were gone. All of them.

“…need to move! …surrounded! Stiles…up….’s me…look at me…”

More words. Still none of them made sense.

He really should have been eaten by now. He should be dead. What the fuck were they waiting for?

Hands touched his face, cupping it on either side. He flinched at first, but stopped when he realized they were gentle. He felt two thumbs stroke across his cheek and he just couldn’t understand what was happening. He was so confused.

Lips touched his forehead.

Now he knew something was amiss. He slowly opened his eyes and found himself looking into the face he’d been dreaming about seeing for so long.

It was too much. His head started spinning and he couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be real. Then it struck him.

He must be dead.

The zombies must have been upon him sooner than he thought and killed him quickly.

Smiling weakly at this thought, so happy that it was the case, he allowed himself to give in to the pounding in his head that blurred his vision and filled his ears with cotton wool.

He leaned into the touch; his whole body going lax apart from his hold on Lea. They’d both be okay now. They were finally with the pack, despite a bit differently than they’d hoped.

“Derek…” he whispered, before the dark that had been hovering around the edges of his vision finally swarmed in.

__________________________

Stiles was floating. He was warm and the overwhelming feeling of safety assaulted his senses.

“…be okay?”

“…he will…side’s messed up…infection…few days…”

“…Derek won’t leave…practically sitting on him…”

Words floated around him once more, bits and bobs making their way through the fog. He wasn’t sure what was going on but he was sure he heard a name. A name, he felt, of someone very important. Why couldn’t he think?

Hands touched him, wiping his brow and prodding at his side, sending little fireworks of pain through him. He moaned and the noise was muted.

And then strangely, he felt what he thought was something licking his face.

He floated like this indefinitely; never knowing which way was up or down, never knowing how to do anything really. He just existed. He knew something terrible had happened, as his heart hurt along with his body, but he was in no rush to find out what that was. If he could escape it all for a while then he would do.

With this decided, Stiles peacefully slipped back into the warm and complete darkness of his mind.

He was running. His breath was coming in great heaving gasps, burning his lungs and his legs felt like lead. But he had to keep going. The alternative just wasn’t an option.

Speak of the devil; he felt the air shift behind him, fingers just brushing his back. Despite his exhaustion, he put on another burst of speed. They were gaining on him. He turned his head slightly to see how close they were. Shit. They were practically gnawing at his heels.

The split second he'd spent looking at the zombies sealed his fate. He never saw the rock coming.

The second his feet struck it; he knew he was done for. Throwing his arms out to try and cushion his fall, he slammed into the earth, all breath knocked out of him. He only had enough time to roll onto his back before they were upon him.

Stiles awoke with a piercing scream, jolting up from where he was lying and straight into the arms of something. Not knowing what was real and what was dream, he fought; arms punching out, legs kicking and all the while screaming.

"Stiles! Stiles it's me, it's Derek! You're safe now I promise. You're home. You need to stop screaming now. Come on Stiles."

Arms wrapped around him and he was overwhelmed with a feeling of safety. He stopped screaming, whimpering instead and buried himself into the source of comfort.

“That’s right Stiles, I’m here. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go again, I promise. You’re safe.”

He felt lips being pressed to his forehead and arms tightening around him, maneuvering him into lying down again. The arms left him briefly and he started to panic, but they returned almost immediately, a wall of warmth settling behind him and holding him tight. For the first time in so long, he felt safe. Oblivion claimed him once more, and he sank into it happily, knowing he would be protected.

The next time Stiles woke up, he was finally himself again. Opening his eyes, he stared at the ceiling above him, trying to figure out where on earth he was. All he could remember was feeling utter heartbreak and hopelessness the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since his mom died. He briefly remembered fear but then after that he mostly recalled safety and warmth. 

He tried to sit up but pain shot through him. Fucking hell he was sick of this stab wound!! His whole body ached like he’d gone six rounds with a bulldozer and he was sure he was about five minutes away from chucking his guts up.

Sheer stubbornness powered him through the pain and into a sitting position, making his head spin horrifically. A pitiful groan escaped him and he clutched his side and head, begging the world to stop bloody moving and for his side to please stop killing.

Then he remembered.

Sorrow and grief hit him like a bus, sending him reeling. Lea, the Pack, his dad. Derek. They were all gone.

He moaned again, though this time the agony was 100 times worse, and dropped his head into his hands. He rocked slowly as tears of utter despair flooded his eyes.

“Stiles?”

He froze. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. He must be going insane with grief. No other explanation.

“Stiles. Come on, look at me.”

The voice was closer this time and he felt a delicate hand on each of his wrists, slowly pulling them away from his face.

Oh God. Please don’t let this be fake. Please don’t let it be his imagination.

“Lydz?” he choked, his throat raw from screaming and crying. The sheer desperation in his voice was heartbreaking, as though he wanted more than anything for it to be true, but was terrified that it wouldn’t be. 

“Oh Stiles.”

She pulled him to her and he clung to her like a life raft muttering, “you’re real” over and over. They stayed like this for a few minutes, him trying to reassure himself she was real and her trying to comfort him. Eventually though, he pulled back, swiping a hand roughly over his face.

“What the hell is going on Lydz? Is everyone okay? Where am I? What happened?”

She shushed his quick and panicked questions, stroking his hair in a gentle, comforting gesture.

“Shh, it’s okay Stiles. Mostly we’re okay. And I can’t believe you managed to wake up the one time you were alone! Someone’s been with you pretty much every second! Well, I say someone. I mean Derek. He’s stayed by your side ever since you got here. Like, I’m not even kidding. After we found you, he carried you into the house and as soon as he properly saw the state you were in, he just full on wolfed out! So you had a huge great wolf lying next to you for an entire night. Then just him normally after he’d calmed down. We finally kicked his ass out of here about an hour ago for food and a shower, and then you go and wake up! He won’t be too pleased. And he’ll kill me for telling you this too.”

She spoke with the air of someone who’d been dying to spill some gossip for a long time. Especially if said gossip wasn’t meant to be spilled and would embarrass somebody. God he’d missed her deviousness. 

Just then it hit him what she’d actually said.

“Whoa wait. What?”

She was just about to open her smirking mouth when he heard the heavy footsteps of someone running very fast coming towards them. His head shot up in fear, far to use to something like that meaning danger. 

He certainly didn’t expect to see Derek Hale skid into the room, stop dead in his tracks and just stare down at him.

“Derek…” he breathed, hardly believing what he was seeing despite Lydia’s words. He was okay. 

He was dressed in jeans and a white wife beater, his hair messy and still slightly damp.

Stiles didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone more beautiful.

“Well, I’ll just be going now then. You crazy kids have fun now.”

Neither even noticed that she was speaking, let alone the content, but the door shutting behind her broke the spell they were under and Derek all but ran over, dropping to his knees in front of him.

“Stiles…”

Derek reached out his hands but stopped before he made contact, leaving them hovering in front of him as though he was scared to touch him.

Well Stiles was having none of that shit. He’d come too fucking far.

Pushing Derek’s hands out of the way, his heart breaking slightly at the look of devastated rejection that flitted across his face, he pulled him roughly into a bone-crushing hug.

And if they held onto each other for far longer than was strictly necessary, then it’s not like either was complaining.


	28. Chapter 28

A/N HELLO MY DEARS!!!! Right oh, first off, I'm so sorry I vanished again!! Long story short, I was ill, went to hospital, came home, went back to Mallorca for Easter (where my apartment has no internet -.-) and then have just come back to England tonight. So basically, I'm sat here editing all the chapters I wrote whilst in the sun (I swear I'm bloody solar powered) with eyes that are practically bleeding I'm that bush whacked so please be gentle with me if there's a few errors in this that have gone unchecked. I will amend them when my body stops trying to crawl to my bed :p  
However, I have some awesome news to share with you guys!! :D Warning though, it's bollocks all to do with this story so please feel free to ignore it :) But whilst I was back in Mallorca, I was doing some freelance photography and writing work with this dude and he was really impressed with my stuff and really liked me so he offered me a permanent job! So this morning I had an interview with him and this other fella, which went really well and I've got the job!!!! So I'll be lovely and busy when I finally get back over there in May :D I'm so excited!!!!  
But yeah, that's my little excited rant over with :D On to the reason you're all actually here :p I hope you like it and another chapter will be along tomorrow night I reckon :) Toodle pip :)

 

Stiles and Derek stayed in a tight embrace for a countless amount of time, pressed so tightly together they were practically wrapped around each other. 

Both of them found that they simply couldn't let go, desperate as they were to reassure themselves the other was there and alive and okay. 

They'd both been dreaming about it for so long but now that they'd finally been reunited, it almost seemed too good to be true. So they clung to each other. As though letting go would break the spell they were under and make the other disappear.

Stiles felt Derek's breath hot against his neck, could almost feel the press of lips. He noticed how much he'd buried his face in Derek's neck and found himself inhaling his scent deeply.

Both suddenly seemed to notice just how close they were, feeling as though they were on the precipice of something.

They pulled back slightly, moving their heads back until they were looking each other straight in the eye, faces mere centimeters apart. Derek's eyes flitted down to Stiles' lips and back.

Holy shit, this was it! They were actually going to kiss! 

They inched forward slowly until their lips were almost brushing and then-

"STILES!!!"

The moment was destroyed.

They jumped apart in shock as Scott barreled into the room, all but jumping on Stiles.

"Oh my God I can't believe it!! You're up!! I've been waiting ages and I couldn't believe it when we found you coz after so long I was scared you hadn't made it!! You need to hear what's been going on with us man, it's freaking mental!! And I want the full story of what's happened to you okay!?! I bet there-wait, are you two okay? You both look a bit...weird..."

If by weird Scott meant bright red and shifting awkwardly then yeah, they were.

And Stiles, to put it lightly, wanted to murder Scott slowly and painfully. Seriously, best friend or not, the dude was dead. 

Derek also looked like he'd join Stiles in the brutal murdering of his Beta, as well as also looking more unsure than Stiles had seen him in a long time. And also strangely shy. It was actually really cute if he was honest. 

They both confirmed they were fine, though secretly planning their brutal revenge, and Scott accepted it without question. 

That was one of Stiles' favourite and also most annoying trait of his friend. You could tell him something and he'd never really question it. If Stiles said he was all right, even if he was lying through his teeth, Scott wouldn't pry any further. This could also be a colossal pain in the ass though, as sometimes you need to be moaned at until you spilled the beans. But good or bad, it was just his friend, and Stiles sure had missed him.

"Oh come here you big puppy."

Delighted that his friend was okay, Scott lunged, pulling Stiles into a bone breaking hug and ruffling his hair.

"Scott!" Stiles gasped. "My side!"

"Sorry!!" He pulled back immediately, ignoring the low growl that Derek let out upon seeing Stiles in pain. 

"So I just came to see you before I headed off on guard duty. I'll be done in a few hours and I want to hear everything. And tell you everything too! Oh man, I'm just so glad you're back!"

He left with just as much manic energy as he’d arrived, leaving them feeling as though a tornado had visited them. 

Stiles glanced at Derek, trying to pick up any hints as to whether or not they'd pick up where they'd been so rudely interrupted. His frankly illegally attractive face was staring fixedly down at his lap and, if Stiles wasn't mistaken, was blushing! Forget the zombie apocalypse, this was truly unbelievable!! 

Deciding not to be a dick and call him out on it, Stiles decided he'd let things progress and happen when they were meant to. The moment hadn't just been ruined by Scott, it had been blown to smithereens and neither quite knew how to move on from that to how they were moments ago. So instead of forcing it, he was going to move on to something else and just wait and see. 

"So, Scott's alive then. More’s the pity. I was kinda hoping the zombies would take him off my hands if I'm honest."

This prompted a small smirk from Derek and effectively broke the ice, both of them moving closer once more, the atmosphere much more comfortable. 

Then suddenly it struck him.

"Oh my God. Lea. She's...she's gone. And then I thought...you guys...the door...then the zombies came and...oh my God..."

And just like that, the colossal panic attack that had been brewing ever since the start of it all struck him like a tidal wave, sweeping him along in its churning, black depths. 

He lost all rational thought, nothing in his head but fear and pain and sadness. God, so much sadness. He knew he wasn't breathing but just couldn't make his lungs work properly. He was pretty sure he could hear Derek trying to calm him down and make him breath, but could do nothing to answer him. 

He hadn't had an attack this bad since his mom died. And he really did not need to think about that right now if he wanted to come out of this any time soon. 

Eventually, he slowly began returning to himself. The vice holding his mind started to loosen and his thoughts began to clear. Soon he became aware of arms holding him, wrapping him up in a cocoon of warmth.

Derek was holding him tight again, rocking him slightly and whispering reassurances into his hair, pressing soft kisses to his head every now and then. It felt safe so he curled into him tighter and enjoyed this moment of peace for a few minutes longer. He knew once he moved, he'd have to face the fact that Lea was dead, he didn't know where his dad was and to just generally find out what the hell was going on. 

Eventually he pulled back, cringing at the thought of how his face must look. In a surprising show of gentleness, Derek swept his thumbs across Stiles' cheek, wiping away tears he wasn't even aware he was shedding. 

It was times like this when Stiles really didn't doubt that Derek cared about him. However that care manifested, romantic or platonic, he knew it was there and it warmed him to his core. 

He cleared his throat and offered Derek a weak smile. 

"So, mind filing me in? Is everyone okay? And where are we? And...is my dad here? Just...tell me everything. Please." 

Derek nodded solemnly. He turned to face Stiles head on and hesitantly reached out to take his hands, holding them gently between his own.

"Okay, so..."

They talked for hours, Derek explaining how terrifying it was that the world was ending and Stiles was so far away. He told him how he got the Pack together, travelling to each of their houses and moving them to the Hale house, setting up traps and trip wires all around it to make it as safe as they could with what they had. 

They had stayed like that for a week or so, relatively safe inside the house. Then a herd came and nearly wiped them out. They managed to destroy the zombies but they came far too close to overrunning the house, some managing to make it as far as the hallway.

It was the looters that finally decided it though. Two scum bags that broke into the house and grabbed Lydia as a hostage, demanding they all leave the house or she was dead. Poor saps didn't even know what hit them. 

Once they were dealt with, Derek made the decision to make the house look wrecked, not to mention painting the magic words on the door that would guarantee that no one would dare try to break in.

Apparently the idea had started in the busier areas of town. Once they realized how dangerous the infected were, and the lack of any kind of cure, they began locking those who got infected in houses, painting warnings on the door. It was effective and was one of the main reasons that Beacon Hills wasn't as destroyed as the other towns out there.

Once the exterior of the house was sufficiently disguised and off putting, Derek revealed a secret. He'd rebuilt and improved the dungeon and underground tunnels beneath the house. He'd done it in preparation for the Alpha pack a few years ago, as well as for the Betas during any troublesome full moons, but hadn't told anyone about them. So once the house became too dangerous to stay in, he moved the Pack underground. 

According to him, the whole tunnel had been made secure and lead from the trapdoor in the old dungeon, to a long tunnel with doors coming off either side into small underground bunkers and then out to a gate on the other side of the yard, which had also been fortified and made secure. Stiles had to admit it was genius.

They dragged what they needed from the house down into the rooms, such as chairs, tables, clothes ect to make it habitable and then stayed holed up there the majority of the time. 

When the coast was clear, it was possible to go up into the house for a bit to make proper food or have a shower, which Stiles was ecstatic to hear, and then come back down again where it was safe. He freaking knew Derek would take care of everyone. 

Derek then went on to tell him about the unlikely alliance that had been formed between the Hale Pack and the Argents. 

Apparently, the Pack had been holed up underground for a week when they heard banging on the door of the House. Scott's head had shot up, sniffing the air before shooting off upstairs and long story short, Allison and her dad were brought down to the bunker to negotiate. 

It was tough going at first, which Stiles could well and truly believe knowing both Derek Hale and Chris Argent, but they got through it with minimum pain and blood shed. 

With them they brought supplies, weapons and two people who could damn well use them. But the real deal closer was the perimeter alarms. They'd be set up all around the Hale house and land, linked up to alarms in the tunnels and would then alert them if anything crossed into their territory. 

It was actually these that alerted them to Stiles' arrival, as well as the herd of zombies following him. If it wasn't for the Argents turning up and Derek letting his grudge go for the sake of the Pack, then Stiles would probably be dead. 

It was sobering that Stiles' continued existence came down to luck and circumstance, just as much as his own skill. Probably more if he was honest. 

Once they'd been alerted, Derek and a few of the Betas went up to investigate and found Stiles on the floor clutching a body with a literal shit ton of zombies closing in on him. They watched in terror as he refused to move and on hearing his sorrowful cries, Derek charged in like a wild thing, taking down any infected he came across before grabbing Stiles. And the rest, as they say, is history.

However, there was one thing Derek neglected to mention.

"So Sourwolf. Lydia happened to mention you becoming my furry cuddle buddy whilst I was out. She said you wouldn't leave my side! Is this true hmmm?" He spoke with a mischievous smirk and immensely enjoyed the way Derek squirmed. That alone was answer enough. 

He laughed softly and gently pulled one of his hands out of Derek's before reaching out and cupping his cheek, running his thumb over the Alphas gorgeous cheekbones. Derek leaned into the touch slightly, his eyes closing briefly and a small smile gracing his face. Stiles half expected to hear him purr. He opened his eyes and locked his gaze on Stiles, knocking the air out of him. He kept their eyes linked as he gently placed his hand over Stiles' and moved it off his face and bringing it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on knuckles he only now noticed were cut and bruised. Now it was Stiles' turn to blush, but he didn't pull away. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes more, enjoying each other’s company and the feeling of being connected. Stiles could hardly believe everything that had happened. Could hardly believe he was home with the Pack, with Derek. And he also couldn't believe how demonstrative he was being. Their time apart and the constant fear of death must have encouraged him to quit pretending. It sure had done that to Stiles. Who knew how long any of them had left anymore, so why waste it being shy or hiding feelings.

But as per usual, his happiness and feeling of contentment couldn't last, as a dreadful thought struck him down like lightning. 

His dad. Where the hell was his dad?


	29. Chapter 29

A/N Ellor chickens :) How are you all?? I hope good :) Dear sweet holy God on high I am knackered right now!!!!!! Been non stop busy for the past two days and I honestly think I've died. I'm dead and this is just my (badly) reanimated corpse wandering around. So forgive me if there's any errors that have slipped through without my exhausted eyes seeing them, I just wanted to whack out a chapter for you lot :) So I hope you enjoy, I'm off to sleep for the next day and a half now so toodle pip :) 

 

Derek must have seen the split second where everything changed, concern instantly marring his handsome face.

"Stiles? You okay?"

Stiles found himself hyperventilating once again, shooting up from where he'd been sat with Derek and looking around in a panic, as though his terrified mind expected, or perhaps simply hoped, that his dad would be hiding in a corner.

"Derek, where's my dad? Where is he!? Oh my God...please tell me he's okay! Holy Jesus-"

"Calm down Stiles. Now. Panicking won't do you any good. Just, sit down and listen okay?"

He shakily stepped forward and all but collapsed in front of Derek, allowing him to gently hold his hands once again and taking comfort from the connection. 

"Your dad...he was here a few days ago. After all this kicked off badly, I went and got him too and he stayed here with us. But a few days ago he left and...he hasn't come back. No stop, sit down and listen, I'm not done!"

He pulled Stiles back down again and squeezed his hands, trying not to let him get swept up in his panic and grief.

"Thank you. Okay, well I suppose it starts with Scott's mom. She was here with us too but after the fight with the looters she left to get supplies from the hospital that we desperately needed. But when she didn't return, the Sheriff went after her to find her and bring her back. He hasn't returned either and it's been four days. I was planning on going after them myself but when you dropped by, I knew I had to look after you first."

"No! You should have gone after him! I was fine! You should have done something! Oh my God...anything could have happened..."

Hurt flitted across Derek's face for a second before he shut it down, hiding it behind an old mask that he hadn’t used around Stiles for a long time now. 

"Stiles, do you know how long you've been out for? Do you have any idea of the state you were in when you arrived?"

This made him stop and slowly shake his head in response.

"You were unconscious for two days Stiles. Your fucking stab wound had gotten infected and all the stitches were pulled! You were a mess! Deaton did what he could with the supplies we had, but we were worried it wouldn't be enough. I hated seeing you in so much pain and so out of it! The fever had scrambled your brain and it was like you were here without actually being here. I couldn't stand it. So no, you weren't fine and no I wasn't going to leave you. And I will not apologize for that either."

He was firm and fiercely defiant and it made Stiles happy in a twisted sort of way to see Derek be so Derek. So as much as it pained him not to, he just couldn't blame him. He knew Derek would have done anything to rescue his dad. He just had to look after Stiles first. And he knew his dad would thank him for that. 

Stiles nodded, a wave of relief passing over Derek's face in response. It made him feel guilty for doubting and accusing the Alpha in the first place. It really wasn't fair after he'd done so much already. 

"Okay. I'm sorry. It was out of order. I'm just afraid and I need to get out there and find him. And don't even think about giving me any of that 'you're not well enough' shit. I'm going. So you can either help me or I swear to God I will just sneak off on my own."

Nothing on this earth was going to stop him going after his dad and Derek needed to damn well realize that and help. Because after everything he'd been through, he really didn't want to do it alone. 

"Fine," he finally forced out, though he obviously did so reluctantly. "I'll help you and Scott will obviously want to go too. He’s been climbing the walls as well. We'll get the whole Pack together and head out tomorrow."

Stiles shook his head wildly, beseeching Derek to trust him.

"No. No way. Trust me on this; big groups attract big attention. The infected, God only knows how, have a great sense of smell and having that many people together is like a freakin flashing neon sign screaming LUNCH!! We need three. Four tops. And no way am I waiting till tomorrow either."

Derek sighed; obviously he'd forgotten just how stubborn Stiles could be.

"Fine. I'll agree with you on the number of people because you obviously have more experience than we do, but there isn't a chance in hell that I'm letting you go tonight. There’s only about two hours of daylight left and who know what you're walking in to. So no, we set off first thing tomorrow morning and that's final."

It was obvious that Derek would not be moved on this, so Stiles had no choice but to grit his teeth and do as he said on the matter. 

"Fine. But I want us moving first thing."

Derek nodded in relief, pleased that they'd finally reached an agreement. Stiles felt the same; it really was like head butting a wall when they started arguing over something. But strangely, that was just another reason he was so drawn to the Alpha. He loved their battle of wills. God he was such a freaking masochist. 

"So...any chance of a shower? I'm pretty ripe."

And with that, any lingering tension was broken and a small smile spread over Derek's face as he realized he was forgiven. 

"Sure. And believe me I know. You don't have to be a werewolf to smell that God awful stench."

Smacking him lightly over the head in mock outrage, Stiles demanded directions to get out of the tunnels and up into the house for the shower. 

"Come on, I'll show you." 

He reached out and grabbed Stiles' hands, pulling him gently to his feet before turning towards the door and leading him out. 

And if either noticed they were still holding hands, well, they weren't complaining.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N Heya chickens :D Sorry about the wait, this took longer than expected as I've been busy as sin with work! It's awesome though, I'm so enjoying it :D But here it is, better late than never. I hope you lot enjoy it, even if it could be seen as fillery. Next chapter has way more substance to it I promise :) Anyway, I hope you lovely people are all well :) And as always, your comments and kudos fill me with immeasurable happiness :D Toodle pip :)

 

Standing in the familiar bathroom, staring with unabashed joy at the hot running shower in front of him, Stiles could have wept for joy. 

Derek had led him by the hand through the empty tunnels and up the stepladder to the house. He was really impressed at what they'd managed to do down there to make it habitable, and he couldn't wait to check out the vaults behind the doors that lined the main tunnel.

Once he finally got up into the house, after much struggling and pain with climbing the ladder, he wasn't all that surprised to see it looking far more run down than last he'd seen it, though thankfully no where near the level it had been before Derek renovated it. It still had hot water and gas however, thanks to him having his own generator. 

This was something Stiles was ever so grateful for, as he stripped down as quickly as his painful side and woozy head would let him, before he stepped eagerly into the shower. 

Oh dear sweet merciful Lord. Holy Mary mother of Christ. Great and wonderful Flying Spaghetti Monster. 

Basically, the shower felt heavenly. 

He moaned and groaned as he bathed in the fiery heat of Mordor. It washed over his skin, soothing his aching muscles and washing away days worth of grime and sweat. It was a wonder any of the wolves managed to cope with him! 

Oh man, there was even shower gel and shampoo! Smothering himself in the gel and washing his hair about twenty times, he finally started to feel human again. The heat went straight through to his bones and the smell just made him feel safe and comforted. Made him feel home. 

It wasn't until he finally came to drag himself out that he realized he'd been using Derek's shower things. 

Pushing that thought to the side for the moment, not wanting to go into the fact he was totally in deep, he toweled off and finally glanced at himself in the mirror for the first time in weeks. 

Fucking hell he looked rough. 

He'd always been on the slender side, but he was just downright skinny now, his ribs showing under his skin and his collar and hipbones sticking out too much. He looked, well, like someone who'd survived on the odd breakfast bar a day for the past three and a half weeks. He was just thankful that his arm muscles were still there. Whacking zombie’s heads off was obviously a good workout. 

But worse than his gauntness was his obvious battle scars. He was covered in bruises, hardly a patch of his pale skin not marred by shades of black and purple. He was also littered with varying degrees of scratches, scrapes and small cuts, probably gained from all the falling to the floor, being thrown into walls and skidding along gravel that he'd been doing. Seriously, if it were an Olympic sport, he'd win gold. 

The worst however, was undoubtedly his stab wound. Now that he'd removed the bandage to shower, he could see it in all its gory glory. The edges were red and puffy, the newest set of stitches tugging at the skin and pulling them tight together. Simply put, it just looked generally gross and was causing him a literal shit ton of pain. He hoped to God he could stock up on painkillers when he went to get his dad and Mrs McCall. 

Familiar fear shot through him once again. What if something had happened? What if his dad was hurt? What if he'd come all this way, gotten so close, only to lose his dad at the last hurdle? 

Shaking himself, he forced those thoughts away, refusing to even consider the possibility. Everything he'd managed to do so far seemed impossible, so this would just be one more thing he did against all odds. Because if there was one thing the universe should have learnt by now, it's not to keep Stiles Stilinski away from the people he loves.

His stomach rumbled loudly, interrupting his thoughts. He'd forgotten just how hungry he was. Casting about himself, he looked for his clothes, before picking them up and realizing just what a state they were in. He couldn't possibly put them back on. Sighing, he wrapped his towel tight round his waist and hoped one of the wolves had some spare clothes.

He spent a good long time brushing his teeth, enjoying it more than words could say, before opening the door and making his way out. Not before, however, instinctively checking to see if the coast was clear. It seemed that habits hard learned were not so easily shaken. 

He made his way slowly down the stairs, wincing every few steps as pain shot through him. Eventually though, he reached the bottom and made his way into the kitchen, expecting it to be empty.

He was wrong.

Stiles stopped short as Derek, Erica, Isaac and Lydia all turned to look at him. And in one persons case, stare.

He was struck with a sudden bout of self consciousness, as he was stood there in naught but a small towel, looking like shit in front of not only some of the most attractive people he had ever seen, but Derek himself.

So wrapped up in his thoughts of inadequacy, Stiles failed to notice the barely hidden smirks being aimed at the Alpha who literally could not take his eyes of the mostly naked human in front of him, his cup of coffee hovering hilariously half way to his mouth. 

"Erm, my clothes. There err, a bit of a mess. Could I borrow some?"

He was addressing Derek, but didn't get any kind of immediate response. 

"Yeah Derek, lend him some clothes. Can't have him wandering around naked now can we!? I'm sure he'll look great in your stuff."

Lydia spoke with such a shit eating grin that Stiles knew there was more behind her words. Especially when Derek's cheeks took on a slightly pink tint under his stubble.

"Err yeah, sure. Come on then." 

He left the room quickly, pointedly ignoring the sniggers that were sent after him, leaving Stiles stood half naked in the kitchen feeling like he was missing something. Shaking his head slightly, he rushed after Derek, holding the towel tight around his waist as he passed the devilishly smirking Lydia and Erica, not trusting them in the slightest.

He made his way to the trapdoor and upon seeing Derek his stomach did a flip. He was lent against the wall with his head tilted back and eyes closed. Jesus it should be illegal to look like that. Really. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly, prompting Derek to open his eyes and look at Stiles dead on. Fuck. That was hardly any better. 

“Err, so yeah, clothes?” 

He was ashamed to say his voice cracked half way through, but Derek didn’t comment, just nodded and made his way to the stepladder. 

“Need a hand?”

And fuck if that didn’t go right to his dick. Jesus.

“Erm, no, nope I’m fine. Totally fine. I’ll just get down first. Not sure you’d like the view otherwise.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, a smirk spreading on his face in response. 

Oh come on! How was that fair!?

Turning around swiftly, hoping to God Derek hadn’t noticed his probably bright red face; he descended the ladder much quicker than he probably should have. But desperate times and all that. 

He waited for Derek at the bottom, trying and failing to not watch his ass as he climbed down. 

Stiles needed to get clothes asap, or the situation was going to get really awkward if he stayed in just a towel for much longer. 

Derek led him back through the main tunnel and back into the room he woke up in. Oh! This must be Derek’s room then. If he’d been in any kind of rational state of mind when he woke up he probably would have noticed it, but as it was, he totally didn’t make the connection. Looking around now though, it was fairly obvious. 

He’d dragged his mattress down which is what Stiles had been sleeping on, a small dresser and mirror, as well as a bunch of stuff that held sentimental value to the Alpha. Stiles felt warm to his core when he noticed the picture on his dresser. It was the same one Stiles had brought with him, the one of the whole pack with the both of them pressed close together in the middle. 

He was so distracted that he didn’t notice Derek until he was stood directly in front of him pushing a pile of clothes at him.

“I’m not sure if these will fit that good, but they’ll do until we can sort you out with something else.”

He nodded, thanking him and taking the clothes. 

“I’ll just be outside while you get dressed. Shout if you need anything.” 

He left Stiles standing in his room holding his clothes and trying valiantly to not think about something he would quite like from Derek. 

Physically shaking himself, he moved over to the dresser, placing the clothes down on top of it and taking a look at them. He’d been given a ridiculously comfy looking pair of sweatpants, a grey short-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of black boxers. Derek’s boxers. Oh holy God he hated the world, he really fucking did. 

It took literally all of his will power to stop the flood of highly distracting thoughts in their tracks and focus instead on getting dressed. When he was finally done, his incredibly painful side preventing him from moving with anything even close to speed, he was comfy, clean and warm, feelings he hadn’t experienced for a whole month. It made his mind go fuzzy as tiredness hit him like a bus. 

He sagged to the floor, legs going weak underneath him. Derek must have heard something or felt his spidey senses go off, because he was by Stiles’ side in seconds. 

“Whoa there. You okay?”

He nodded in response but his face betrayed him as it crunched up in pain, his side radiating agony. 

“Wanna try that again with a little more honesty this time?”

Derek’s bitch face was out it full force and it made Stiles smile. But he answered honestly this time, far too tired to come up with any kind of convincing lie.

“Okay fine, my side is killing me and I’m exhausted. Happy now?”

“Hardly.” 

Derek sounded so honest that it made Stiles stop for a second, not quite knowing how to respond to that. Instead, he reached out and flicked the Alpha on the end of his nose.

The look on Derek’s face was literally priceless. 

“Erm, Stiles? What the hell?”

He giggled in response, his tiredness levels reaching the point of making him silly. 

“Cheer up Sourwolf. I’m here, I’m mostly okay, we’re gunna get my dad and Mellissa back and everything’s gunna be sunshine and roses. Promise.” 

He shot a beaming smile at Derek, earning a fond smile in return. Mission accomplished. 

“You’re such an idiot. Now come on, I’ll bandage your side up and then you’re going to get some food. Then bed. Maybe you can sleep some of your stupid off.” 

“Keep dreaming Sourwolf, keep dreaming.”


	31. Chapter 31

A/N *sobs* so bloody sorry it's taken a decade to get this done!!! Work has decided to pile it on and my health is shit -.- So yeah, I'm sorry!!!! And I'm also afraid that this is a dreaded filler chapter *dodges tomatoes* It was meant to be part of the next chapter but if I didn't split it up, it'd mean me not posting anything for another few days and I hate not posting. So it's just something to keep you wonders going :) But fear not, the next few chapters have me all excited and cackling manically!! :D So I can't wait to get them done and posted :D But for now, please accept this humble pile of shit and don't give up on me. Hope you're all good, toodle pip :) 

 

Sat down in the tunnels in what was serving as the common room, surrounded by his friends, Stiles could hardly dare to believe it. He had the biggest grin on his face as he was mauled by over excited wolves and humans alike and if it wasn’t for the agony in his side, he’d want to pinch himself, convinced that this would end up being a cruel dream. 

Everyone, bar the ones on watch duty, was sat around the large, rickety wooden table in the middle of the room on anything that could possibly serve as a seat. They chattered endlessly about bits and bobs, obviously sticking to the lighter topics for now, but Stiles didn’t care. It was just heaven to hear their voices.

It wasn’t perfect of course. Thoughts of his dad and Melissa shot through his mind near constantly and he was desperate to just get to the hospital and find them. Then there were the ever-present ghosts that followed him. 

He felt Lea and Dan’s death like a lead weight dragging behind him, the chain wrapped tight around his heart. They should be here! He should be introducing them to his friends! They should be safe and together! And he just couldn’t help but feel that it was all his fault.

He was jolted from his thoughts by a huge bowl of minestrone soup landing on the table in front of him followed closely by a large mug of tea. Looking up he saw it was Derek who had given it him.

“Eat. You need it.” Came the rugged command and Stiles saluted cheekily. 

He honestly hadn’t realised just how freaking starving he was until the smell hit him. He was utterly unashamed of the moan that left his mouth as he dug in to his favourite soup in all of existence with all the grace and manners of a wild animal. 

“Jesus Stiles, slow down! You look like you haven’t seen food in years!”

“Well I haven’t. Had about one muesli bar a day if I was lucky.”

This earned a look from Erica that clearly said ‘oh shit, I’m a dick’. It was only through knowing her so long that he didn’t take offence in the slightest. For all her bravado and bad girl attitude, at heart she was still the quiet, painfully shy girl who didn’t always know when to and when not to open her mouth.

However, it wasn’t only Erica who looked pretty shocked. He looked about surprised; surely they knew how rough it was out there?

“We didn’t know it had been so bad.”

The quiet voice of Allison piped up from the back, sadness evident as the rest of the table nodded, the previously cheery mood leaving them all. 

“It was as bad as you can imagine and then some.”

Stiles surprised himself with what had come out of his mouth, not intending to say something so brutally honest. He kept his gaze fixed on his soup, eating it like a mad man and pointedly ignoring the silence at the table. Eventually it became too awkward and he couldn’t stand it any longer. 

“Urgh, this is gorgeous!” he moaned, exaggeratedly licking the bowl clean, some dripping onto his nose and cheek.

Thank God, it managed to break the ice and make them chuckle. Derek seemed to understand his need to move on from the conversation and helped by throwing a damp dish cloth straight at his face. 

They chuckled again and just like that, it went back to normal. Well, he was sure he kept seeing some of them throwing him ‘subtly’ concerned looks every now and then, but on the whole it was fine. 

The gentle chatter along with the food in his belly began to lull him into a doze, his eyes drooping and head lolling. He was probably about two seconds away from face planting in his bowl when he felt a familiar warm presence behind him.

“Come on, you’re making me tired just looking at you.”

Stiles nods blearily and tries to stand up but his legs have other plans. He sagged down, exhaustion slamming into him like a lead weight before he felt an arm around his shoulder and under his knees, the world spinning for a moment. 

Hardly knowing which way was up, he decided to curl into the warmest nearby thing and just let the darkness claim him. 

Stiles slept like the dead. Actually, considering the current situation, he probably slept better than the dead. He was cocooned by warmth and compared to the fear and confusion of last time; he was at peace, seeming to float in a feeling of safety and comfort. It was really rather lovely and he'd have liked to stay that way for a good long while.

But alas, all good things come to an end and he felt himself being pulled from his happy place by a hand shaking his shoulder gently. He batted it away weakly and tried to curl back into the nearby warmth and darkness. However, the problem seemed to actually be the heat source, so he blearily cracked open an eye to see that the warm annoyance was in fact a certain Alpha werewolf very close to his face as he leaned over to shake him back into the land of the living.

Stiles jolted, not expecting to be encountered with a person so close to his face and promptly head butted him in the face. 

“Jesus Stiles!” came the pained response, as Derek flew back on his haunches holding his nose

“Sorry! Sorry Derek! But freaking hell! Don’t lean so close before I’ve woken up! I’m a very dangerous person!”

And really, it could only be Derek Hale that managed to look so ‘bitch please’ with a nose streaming blood. It must be a gift. 

“Yeah well I can be okay. So put away your bitch face.”

Derek only shook his head and rolled his eyes, wiping the blood away from his healed nose. Damn werewolves. Sitting up, Stiles rubbed at his eyes and tried to wake up. It seemed like finally being in a safe place had made his body want to catch up on all the sleep he’d missed.

And just like that, all sleepiness fled in an instant. How could he have forgotten! 

“Shit Derek what time is it!? I need to get to the hospital! My dad!”

“Stiles, calm down, it’s still early. I came to wake you up so we could get a plan together. The others are heading to the kitchen so hurry up and get dressed.”

Not needing to be told twice, he scrambled from where he’d been led, which he briefly realized was Derek’s mattress, and stood to get ready. His side twinged but was beginning to feel better at last. He just hoped he wouldn’t get another one on his rescue mission any time soon.

After scrambling about and throwing on the pair of clean jeans, tight black t-shirt and plaid shirt that Derek must have laid out for him, as well as his trusty boots, he stumbled outside to where Derek was waiting for him and sped past, throwing a “hurry up” over his shoulder. 

Understanding Stiles’ desperation, he sped up himself and they were in the tunnels makeshift kitchen in no time. Stiles was pleased to see Scott already there, but surprised to find he was with Allison, Lydia, Isaac and Mr Argent. 

“Woah, hold on a second. All of you guys can’t come! I specifically said no big groups!”

"Oh Stiles! It'll be safer in a bigger group!" Lydia whined, "we'll all look out for each other! You can't do it without us."

Temper flaring, he stalked into the room and stood at the head of the table. He didn't have the time or the patience to deal with this shit.

"Right, you listen to me. Not that it won't have been rotten for you guys too, but you have no idea what it was like out there. I had to survive in a major city when the infection spread. It took about three days there until everyone was infected and then I had to last for weeks, Me and my friends made it through that city by being small and quiet and through tricks I learned. I know how to get passed these things and trust me, it's with a small group. Anymore and they can smell us a mile off. So I appreciate that you all want to come along, but it'd be more dangerous than helpful." 

Stiles knew he was being a bit of a dick, but that couldn't be helped. There was no way he could get in and out with all of them being a flashing diner sign.

"Stiles is right. He has more experience out there than any of us, so I think we should listen to him on this. Plus, do you really think it's a good idea to leave the house so undefended? What if something happened and more than half of us weren’t here? We'd be fucked. So I need you lot here defending our home and each other. It'll be me, Stiles and Scott who go. Please, I need the rest of you here."

They obviously weren't happy and grumbled like crazy, but they knew what Derek was saying made sense. They couldn't leave the house so unprotected. 

"And Argent, I need you to…be in charge until I get back. Look after them.”

Stiles could see that it actually pained Derek to ask this of Argent, but it was a good call. And it just proved how much he’d come on as an Alpha by putting the Packs needs above his own feelings. It sent a wave of pride through Stiles and he couldn’t help but smile at him, getting a very small but warm one in return. 

The group eventually agreed, albeit reluctantly, so Stiles was impatient to move on to actually planning their rescue and getting on with it. He was practically twitching with the need to get up and move. He just needed to find them and quickly. Because in the back of his mind, the part he was trying so hard to ignore, was a voice that kept telling him that it had to be something big to keep his dad away.


	32. Chapter 32

A/N Heya chickens :D Okay, much longer chapter for you lot this time :) And someone commented on the last chapter that they'd rather have longer gaps if it meant less fillery chapters. Does everyone feel like that? Coz if so then I'll just make sure I post as little filler chapters as possible, instead having them be part of a bigger chapter. I just didn't want to leave you lot waiting for so long. I'm easy any way :)   
So yeah, here you go, I hope you like it :) Also, if there's any mistakes please forgive me and let me know. It's stupid o'clock and i'm knackered! So some may have slipped through. But yeah, hope you guys are good and enjoy this. Toodle pip :)

 

Despite not being allowed to come with them, Argent, Allison, Lydia and Isaac stayed as they planned, wanting to help in some way at least. And Stiles didn’t have the heart to tell them he didn’t really need their help. God he felt an arrogant dick, but it was the truth. He knew so much more about the infected than they did, including clever ways to avoid them. He knew once they’d found you and started after you that there wasn’t much more you could do besides leg it or kill them, but before that point he was pretty decent with avoidance techniques.

“So, what’s the plan Stiles?” came Scott’s question, not doubting the fact that Stiles knew what he was talking about.

“Okay, so, when I was driving through town the main roads were mostly clear, so we shouldn’t have too much trouble getting somewhere near the hospital. I don’t know about the smaller roads because they were pretty packed with bodies, but that’s fine coz I have an idea. One way me and…Dan and Lea got passed them was by hacking up a body and covering ourselves in it. Yeah, it really was as disgusting as you can imagine. But the infected can’t smell us if we do that, we blend in. However, this time, I don’t think we’re gunna need to cover ourselves in it. Scott, do you still have your skateboards? Or any kind of thing on wheels? Because we can mash a body up a bit, put it on whatever wheelie thing we have and drag it behind us. Maybe two if we can. That should put them off our scent.”

“That sounds…incredibly gross.” 

“Yes Scott, it really is.”

Stiles couldn’t help but grin at how disturbed Scott looked, and the others suddenly seemed very pleased that they weren’t coming along any more.

“Soooo, what’re you gunna do once you actually get to the hospital then?”

Ah.

“Erm, well Lydia, that’s a very good question and err, one that I maybe don’t have an answer to just yet.”

Groans went around the table and Stiles gestured wildly with his hands for them to shut up.

“Oh stop your moaning, I’ll think of something! I just need to…assess the situation first.”

Allison made to open her mouth, presumably to argue, when Scott just stood up, all eyes looking at him in confusion.

“Jesus guys I don’t care! My mom has been stuck there long enough and I’m sick and tired of not being able to go help her. So I don’t care if the plan is to attack a legion of those things with nothing but a toothpick, I am going after my mom.”

Stiles agreed completely and knew it must have been seriously rough on Scott to be stuck here unable to go find his mom. So he stood and put a hand on his best friends shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze. He really had missed Scott, and he couldn't wait till they got their parents back safe and had time to properly catch up. 

"Well that's settled then. So lets get ready and head out. I want you to find as many decent weapons as you've got, flashlights, rope, a wheelie something and pile on the layers okay. Even bring some kind of raincoat and rubber gloves if you can find any. And yes, I do mean in case we need to splatter ourselves in mashed zombie. So go my monkeys! Flee! Return to me here in half an hour!" 

He ushered them off, leaving only him and Derek in the room, the latter of which moved from where he'd been lent against the wall and came to perch on the table facing Stiles. 

"Well, that was actually kind of impressive," he said with a smirk. "Well done."

"Meh, they're all puppies really. But we need to get ready ourselves so come on."

He made to stand up, only to have a large hand settle on his shoulder and push him back down into his seat.

"Nu uh. You need some food first. I won't have you running on empty and making yourself sick again."

Stiles sighed but relented. When on earth had Derek turned into such a mother hen?

Sensing his victory, he moved away and took a pan off the camp stove that Stiles hadn’t noticed sat in the corner, before pouring its contents into a bowl and bringing it over.

“I know it’s not exactly breakfast food, but it’s hot and filling, both of which you need. So hurry up and we’ll get moving.”

Stiles nodded and tucked into the soup with gusto. It was sort of hilarious that Derek thought he gave a shit about whether or not soup was meant for breakfast, he was starving! The thought of starting the day on a full stomach was awesome to him and could possibly be a sign that the day was going to go his way. He freaking hoped so. 

He ate quickly, despite feeling Derek watching him, and was soon standing up and putting him bowl in the tub of soapy water in the corner of the room that he assumed was being used to wash up. God, they really had done amazing here. He knew that they’d actually be able to live here and not just scrape an existence. 

The house was fortified, nothing getting near it without them being alerted, it was full of the people he loved, and with time he was sure they’d figure out some kind of sustainable food source. Maybe if they did a run to find some seed packets at the gardening shop in town then they could start growing things in the grounds. And he was sure Allison could hunt with her bow. 

Before he knew it, Stiles was barrelling over to Derek and enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug. He felt the Alpha stiffen in shock, before wrapping his arms around Stiles and holding him just as tight. 

“I’m just so happy to be here.” 

He spoke quietly, his voice muffled in Derek’s chest and thick from the sudden flood of emotion that had hit him. He wasn’t sure Derek had heard it until he felt the man pull back and put his hands on either side of Stiles’ face, pulling it in until he could press a light kiss to his forehead. It felt like a promise. 

They could here Scott thundering down the tunnel and likely about to come in at any moment, so they reluctantly pulled apart, a bashful smile on Stiles’ face and more than likely, very pink cheeks. 

“Stiles!! I found my skateboards!” came the hollering of Scott before said werewolf came into the room with two skateboards held over his head victoriously. 

Stiles laughed at his friends expression, ruffling his hair with a “well done” before grabbing the boards to see if they’d work. They were a bit worse for wear but should work for what he needed to do.

“Yep, these are great thanks Scott. I saw plenty of wood outside so we need to collect some planks preferably and make a sort of pallet to go on top of these to give enough room for a body or two that we can drag behind us. Hopefully it’ll be enough to cover our scents.”

Derek nodded and took the boards off Stiles, holding them apart.

“This wide enough you think? Okay, well we actually have some planks in the house that were left over from me blocking up the windows, so I can make this while you get the rest of the stuff together.”

Giving him a smile, Stiles nodded and watched Derek walk out of the room, not realising he was staring so blatantly until Scott started making gagging noises.

“Oh fuck off…” he muttered, face heating up as he bid a hasty retreat out of the room, his friends laughter following him down the tunnel. 

Half an hour later, Stiles, Scott, Derek, Allison, Mr Argent and Lydia were all gathered in the common room with everything they’d gathered piled on the table in front of them. 

All together they had a decent selection of weapons to choose from thanks to Argent, as well as rope, rubber gloves, flashlights, a newly built wheelie zombie transporter courtesy of Derek and two large rucksacks to put everything in, as they’d also hopefully be bringing back some of the supplies that Mellissa went in search for in the first place. 

He’d wrangled the story out of Scott as they were waiting and it turned out that she was almost positive the hospital not only had medical supplies that they needed, but food too. The hospital’s kitchens were probably the last thing on anybody’s minds and they would be full of long life food, packaged meals and non perishable ingredients. 

Their food supply at the house was at a decent level, but she wanted to make sure they didn’t have to worry. She’d proposed the idea but Derek, Stiles’ dad and Argent had all agreed for once and told her it would be too dangerous, as a hospital would probably be one of the places worst hit by the infection, meaning there was likely to be plenty of zombies in and around the building. 

Mellissa had been pissed off but finally relented. That was however, until the following night where she left a note on the table and snuck out. It was an idiot move and Stiles just prayed she wouldn’t have to face the consequences of her actions. Upon finding the note the next morning, Scott has promptly freaked out, nearly rushed out on his own but was stopped by Stiles’ dad who took off after her instead. 

Stiles was beyond pissed at his dad for being so stupid as to go on his own. He was a Sherriff for fuck sake! He should know better! But he just had to hope that the fact his dad was the Sherriff would help him deal with whatever trouble they must have run into. He just prayed it wasn’t anything they all couldn’t deal with. 

Dragging himself from his thoughts, he once again moved to the head of the table and looked around at everyone gathered there.

“Okay guys, I think that’s everything we’ll be needing. The plan is to take the jeep as close as we can get, find a body and mash it up, load it onto the wheelie thing and assess the situation. Then we’ll figure out how to go about getting into the hospital based on what we find. Sound good? Okay then, pick a weapon and let’s head out.”

Stiles once again had his trusty baseball bat, a brand new nail stuck in it and the old zombie blood washed off of it. He also picked a long knife from Argent that came with a thigh holder, strapping it on and feeling just a bit badass. He saw Derek pick up the matching one and put it on, as well as grabbing a heavy metal baton. Scott grabbed two daggers and a crowbar before he started shoving the rest of their stuff in one of the rucksacks.

“Okay, wish us luck.” Stiles said with forced chirpiness. He was pretty bloody scared actually, not only for himself, Derek and Scott, but also of what they might find at the hospital. 

They moved through the tunnel, heading to the end Stiles hadn’t been to before. They came upon an iron door, which was slowly opened by Derek who told them to stay there until he’d checked if the coast was clear. He knew they’d have been alerted if any infected were out there, but it couldn’t hurt to be safe. Moments later, his head popped back around the door and ushered them out, pulling the heavy door shut behind them and locking it with the large iron key on string around his neck. 

Once they were outside and Stiles had chance to look around, he finally realised where they were. This used to be the entrance to the old tunnel, the one that had previously only had a gate. It came out a bit away from the house and was the perfect escape route or entryway when the house was compromised. 

They started on their way back to where Stiles parked his jeep, well, more like abandoned it actually, glancing over their shoulders constantly. Stiles felt the familiar fear descend on him once more, the fear of being out in the world with nothing between you and becoming a zombie happy meal but your own strengths and a fuck ton of luck. 

They made it to the jeep without any problems and when Stiles went to open the doors, he was happy to find them still unlocked and the keys still in the ignition. He’d not had time to pull them out before he’d launched himself from the vehicle after seeing the house. Shivering, he forced those memories away as they really weren’t going to help in this situation. 

He opened the boot and they all loaded up their stuff, though Stiles made them keep at least one weapon on them at all times. They were just getting into the jeep, Stiles and Derek in the front and Scott in the back, when he saw something that made him freeze in his tracks, encasing his body in ice and stopping his heart.

There, across the drive and just in front of the house, was Lea. Or, more specifically, Lea’s body.

He got out of the car in a haze; the entire world zoomed in to nothing but the sight before him. He dimly heard someone saying his name but he ignored it and everything else, shakily making his way across the yard.

Oh God.

He came to a halt and felt his knees weaken and hit the ground as he looked down at all that was left of one of the closest friends he’d ever had.

She wasn’t even recognisable as a person anymore, the infected having long gotten to her. He wanted to vomit or scream or cry. He wanted to curl up in a ball and wish it all away. He wanted her back. He wanted both of them back. But he’d learnt a long, long time ago that wishing never brought anybody back from the dead.

Something glinted out of the corner of his eye and he looked down to see a mostly intact hand and the bracelet around it. He remembered that bracelet; it was Lea’s favourite, given to her by Dan on their fourth anniversary. 

Steeling himself, he reached forward and undid the clasp, removing it carefully before holding it reverently. It was splattered in blood but otherwise undamaged, the silver glinting in the sun. It was a charm bracelet and had so many memories attached to it, as each charm represented something important. He used the edge of his t-shirt to rub as much of the rusty blood off it as he could before trying to fasten it onto his own wrist. 

A hand on his shoulder halted his struggles and he lifted his watery eyes to see Derek, who slowly knelt and gently took hold of the bracelet and fastened it around Stiles’ wrist easily. 

"I'm so sorry Stiles."

He nodded, not taking his eyes off the bracelet on his wrist, afraid that if he moved his eyes, they'd get glued to the mangled form in front of him and become imprinted on his retinas. He was scared it would become his last image of Lea.

"Stiles..."

"I know I know. I just, I can't just..." he trailed off, not even understanding what he was feeling or thinking. 

But somehow, Derek did.

He felt the hand leave his shoulder as Derek walking away, only to return moments later. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Derek kneel down next to the body and carefully cover it with one of the blankets Stiles kept in the back of his jeep. 

Suddenly he could breath again and he looked at Derek in wonder and confusion.

"My sister...she was in pieces...I couldn't breath until I'd buried her properly.”

He nodded with understanding and felt a jolt of utter guilt hit him. He’d never imagined how horrible it must have been for Derek to have finally put his sister to rest only for Stiles and Scott to come bumbling along and dig her back up. 

“Guys?”

They looked up to see Scott awkwardly standing there, obviously not knowing what to do or say. But they knew he wanted them to move and head off. 

“Okay, we’re coming,” he replied shakily. He still felt the very strong urge to vomit, though he was better now she was covered up. He could almost pretend she was still whole underneath the blanket, still beautiful. Like she was just asleep. 

It helped more than he would have expected and he was determined to not allow the mental image he has of her be tarnished by the cruel realities of life. He would remember her as the bright, beautiful, intelligent woman she had been, so full to bursting with life. He wished he could give her a proper burial, Dan too, but such things weren’t possible, so he could only honor them in his heart and mind, never forgetting them and all they’d done. If he remembered them, then they’d never truly be gone. 

He slowly pushed himself to his shaking feet, Derek doing the same and coming to his side, walking close to him as they made their way back to Scott and the jeep. Stiles refused to look back. 

The drive was slow and careful, picking paths around bodies, stranded cars and debris. Eventually it became impossible to go any further, so Stiles pulled the car over and turned it around, prompting Derek and Scott to look at him in confusion. 

“What? This way we have an easier getaway if we need it. Better to turn around now than being chased by rabid hungry zombies and having to do a three point turn.”

They nodded in understanding, Derek looking a little put out that he hadn’t thought of that. Scott just looked amazed that Stiles had thought of it.

“You’re really good at this you know,” he said, leaning forward from his seat in the back. “You seem so different. You aren’t as hyper for one and like, you just seem to always know what to do.”

Stiles scoffed slightly. “Trust me Scott, I most certainly don’t always know what to do.”

Scott didn’t reply, instead asking what they were going to do next.

“We need to find a couple of bodies, bash them about a bit, put them on the wheelie thing and drag it behind us. It should cover our scent and let us go unnoticed incase of any nearby infected. It’s not far from the hospital from here so if we’re careful, I think we’ll be okay. So come on.”

It wasn’t until Scott and Derek exchanged smug smirks that he realized he’d fallen right into Scott’s trap. 

“Little shit…” he muttered, cuffing the werewolf over the head with a huff. 

The two carried on smirking as they got out of the jeep and moved to the boot, grabbing their bags and other weapons. Stiles got out and followed them, trying to decide about whether or not he should leave the keys in the ignition again. He doubted it there’d be any other survivors but he pocketed them just in case. Better to spend a few seconds getting the key out then to lose their only means of transportation. 

He told the others to get the wheelie thing set up whilst he went and looked for two bodies. He ended up not having to go far at all, a group of five lying near each other just off to the side of the road. He waved to Derek, who pulled the wheelie thing behind him as he made his way over. They snapped on the rubber gloves and stood over the first body, looking down with distaste.

“Well, this is going to be disgusting…” came Derek’s dower tones.

“Trust me, this will be nothing compared to coating yourself in it.”

“…fair enough”

Together, the grabbed the body by the ankles and wrists, lifting it and dropping it on the wide wooden pallet before moving on to the next one. It didn’t quite go to plan the second time round, as when they went to pick it up, one of the arms came off with a sickening squelch. 

“Oh dear holy God.” Stile moaned, as he held the limb as far away from his body as possible and looking at it with disgust. He threw it to the side with a shudder, grabbing hold of the other arm carefully. They managed to get it on to the pallet the second time and they both gratefully stepped back.

“Right, on to the mashing then!” he said with forced cheerfulness, chuckling at the sour look Derek leveled on him. He grabbed his bat and stepped forward, lifting it above his head and bringing it down hard.

Freaking hell he’d forgotten just how disgusting it was to do this, the noise, the smell the feel of rotting flesh giving way beneath the force of his blows. He saw Derek wade in as well and they made quick work of the bodies, turning them into a nice pulpy mess but still tangible enough to stay on the board. 

They both stepped back happily, gingerly removing their rubber gloves and checking to see how much gunk had gotten on their clothes. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad, nothing they couldn’t wipe off with the spare blankets in the jeep. 

“Thank God that’s over…” muttered Derek with a shiver. 

“Why? Is the big bad wolf a little squeamish?” he teased, pushing his gunk splattered bat in front of the Alpha’s face and laughing when he cringed away.

“Right, you go get Scott and the rest of our stuff and we’ll get going. I want us to get there as quick as we can. We need to go unnoticed.”

Derek nodded and moved to the jeep, grabbing the bags and leading Scott over until they all stood around the pulpy mess on the zombie wheelie thing. He so needed to come up with a better name than that. 

“Okay so, the pulpy zombie wheelie thing needs to stay as close to us as possible, do not let it trail too far behind. Keep your freaky werewolf hearing tuned in at all times and we have to constantly keep our eyes peeled. If there’s infected nearby, we need to see them before they see us, that way we can either hide or kill them quickly and without attracting any others. The hospital is about five minutes away tops so we could get lucky and not see any at all. Then we’ll figure out what to do then when we get there.”

They both nodded and Derek picked up the rope, pulling the pulpy zombie wheelie thing close behind them as they set off. Stiles kept his bat ready, surveying the area around them constantly as they began to move down the road. God he hoped this would be easy and go according to plan. Just this once let everything be okay.


	33. Chapter 33

A/N Heya guys! Okay, so this is a much longer chapter for you guys now and I hope you all enjoy it. Some seeerious shit is going to be going down for the next few chapters so I'll try and get them out to you as quick as humanly possible :) So yeah, thanks for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks, it really doesn't half make me smile ^__^ Especially the comments as, in case you all hadn't noticed, I love chatting with people and hearing what you guys think of this fic is pure gold for me :) But yeah, hope you're all well and enjoy the chapter. Toodle pip :)

 

They snuck down the road, slowly and carefully, keeping as quiet as they could. Everywhere was a total wreck, though there were thankfully less bodies than he expected and certainly less bodies and destruction than he’d seen elsewhere. But it was different somehow, walking through what used to be your hometown and seeing it in such a state. He remembered going up this road so many times in his life and seeing it like it was, it just drove home the point even further that they were not in Kansas anymore.

By some miracle, they were so close to the hospital that they could almost see it and there still hadn’t been any sightings of the infected. Stiles kept looking around in utter paranoia, thinking he’d seen something move just out of the corner of his eye. 

He felt eyes watching him all the time, the hairs on the back of his neck permanently standing to attention. It set his nerves on edge even more until he felt like he could scream with all the tension, his body wound tight like a spring.

“Nearly there guys, just a bit further. But seriously, keep your eyes open and weapons ready.”

He kept his voice low, still not trusting that they were totally alone but not wanting to voice his concerns with no proof. He didn’t need to freak Scott and Derek out, or worse, to make them think he was loosing it.

Oh thank God! Finally! Stiles could have laughed with relief as he realized the hospital was only around the next bend. He sped up his pace, the others doing the same until finally they turned the corner. They’d finally reached the hospital.

“Shit.”

Yep, Scott couldn’t have said it better. The place looked an utter wreck. The windows were either smashed or boarded up and the whole building seemed to be surrounded by a tall metal link fence topped with vicious looking barbed wire. Worse though, was the fact that the front of the building also had the words DEAD INSIDE scrawled all over it in black spray paint.

"I was worried about this."

Stiles and Scott both turned and looked at Derek quizzically, taking in his dark and almost resigned expression. 

"They locked the infected away remember. Even those that hadn't turned yet. They learnt quickly here and didn't want them running loose infecting and killing more people so they kept them locked away. Their own houses, the school, the police station, anywhere really. I hoped the hospital might have been deemed too important but apparently not. We'll have to be careful if we go in at all."

"Whoa whoa whoa! Of course we're going in! That's our parents in there!" Scott hissed violently, thankfully remembering not to shout.

“It’s okay Scott, of course we’re going in. No matter what, we have to know what happened.” Stiles patted him on the back comfortingly. He couldn’t blame Scott for being so tetchy though, as he felt exactly the same. All the signs were pointing to something none of them wanted to think about but still, they had to know for sure. Even if Stiles had no idea what he’d do if…if the worst happened.

Scott nodded, giving Stiles a weak smile and glaring at Derek darkly.

“How on earth are we gunna get in there then?”

Stiles puzzled it over, moving forward to get a better look at the gate despite Derek’s hissed warnings. He was sure he could see something just to the left side of the fence, so he walked over, keeping one eye on his surroundings at all time even if he was sure Scott and Derek had his back.

“Guys! I’ve found something!”

Stiles moved over to the gap in the fence he’d spotted as the other two followed close behind. There was a small split in the fence that looked like it’d been done with bolt cutters.

“This must be how they got in! Come on then.”

He pulled the edges apart and squeezed trough, scratching his arm on the sharp metal. Once inside they took stock again and thankfully didn’t see any infected. It was both a positive and negative sign that they weren’t swarming around the hospital. Positive because it meant they could actually get to the building, but negative because that coupled with the spray painted warning more than likely meant they were all inside said building.

They rushed over to the barricaded entrance as quietly as they could, dodging the debris scattered all over the ground. Stiles stood in front of it and tried to figure out how to get inside. The previously all glass front was totally blocked off by huge wooden planks and more barbed wire. There was absolutely no way they were getting in that way, not without having to make a shit load of noise at least.

“Erm, right, well I think it’s pretty obvious that the front door isn’t an option. So lets just walk around the building and see if there’s any other entrances or windows we could climb through. Dad and Mrs McCall had to have gotten in somehow.”

They nodded in agreement and the three of them began moving around the perimeter of the hospital. The left side looked pretty packed full of debris and tipped over bins so they decided to start on the right side instead, needing a somewhat clear path for the pulpy zombie wheelie thing to get through as he wasn’t going to chance leaving it behind.

As they made their way round, it became clear that whoever barricaded the hospital was determined to do a freakin good job of it. It filled Stiles with fear, as they obviously didn’t want whatever was inside to get out.

Just as he was about to tear his hair out in frustration, he spotted it. A little window right at the back of the hospital where the planks had been pulled loose, leaving just enough space for a grown man to fit through but high enough that any infected couldn’t pull themselves in or out.

“Finally!” he exclaimed under his breath, dragging Scott and Derek along to stand underneath it. 

“Right, I’ll go in first, check if the coast is clear and then you two can follow. And don’t even dare Derek, it’ll be equally as dangerous whether I go in first or last so don’t even argue with me. If I need you, believe me I’ll let you know.”

Stiles continued to stare the Alpha down until he finally, and very reluctantly agreed through gritted teeth. Satisfied, he carried on.

“Okay, so, we’ll have to leave the pulpy zombie wheelie thing behind which could be risky, but we can hardly cover ourselves in zombie guts now, so we’ll just have to risk it and be seriously careful. We see any infected we turn the other fucking way and get out of there before they notice us. And if they do notice us, kill them as quickly and quietly as possible. Right, give us a leg up, my side still sucks.”

Despite his obvious desire to do the opposite, Derek forced himself to help. With a bit of shuffling and a few false starts, Stiles finally managed to balance on Derek's laced hands and be lifted up to the window. He was really quite impressed with Derek's strength but it was probably the wrong time to muse on it as he scrambled through the window with all the grace of an elephant trying to jump through a hoop. And a fucking tiny hoop at that!

He dropped to the floor clumsily, his side smarting badly as it stretched too far. Hissing he grabbed it, bending over as he tried to catch his breath.

"Stiles? Stiles! What's happening? I can hear you breathing fast and your heart’s going mad! Stiles!”

Derek spoke as quietly as he could manage but fear was evident in his voice. It was comforting actually and it helped him calm his breathing, straighten up and move to the window to stick his hand out, which was quickly claimed by a larger, rougher one.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just pulled my side too much when I went through. It’s okay though, don’t worry, just need to catch my breath.”

Stiles could hear Derek exhale in relief, his hand squeezing tight once before letting go.

“If everything’s clear I’m coming through.”

Stiles shook his head with a small smile.

“Oh fine you freakin big stress head.”

He moved back and checked the room he’d landed in. It was small and mostly empty, save for a few boxes and cleaning products. It must have been either a storage room or the cleaner’s room. Not wanting all of them to pile in only to find the door locked, he went over to try it. He slowly turned the handle and found the door thankfully unlocked, before he ever so carefully pushed the door open.

Ah.

Shutting the door again as quietly as he could, heart once again hammering violently in his chest, he moved swiftly over to the window.

“Erm, guys?” he asked weakly, “We have a slight problem. I’ve just opened the door a bit and err, well, the corridor outside is sort of just a bit swarming with infected...”

“What!? Shit!” came Derek’s voice, his head popping up into the window and meeting Stiles’ eyes. “You need to get out of there Stiles. There’s no way we can get further into the hospital. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head violently. “No, no way Derek. I’m not leaving. I’m sure my dad and Mrs McCall are alive and I need to find them!”

“Look, I know Stiles, believe me I know. But you can’t turn invisible and I’m not risking you. Either of you. I’m sorry but there’s no other way in.”

He heard Scott punch the wall and let out a quiet stream of colourful curses, sounding so utterly panicked and close to tears at the thought of leaving his mom. This just enforced Stiles’ refusal to leave until he knew the truth. Good or bad.

“Derek, no, I’m not leaving. So either you get your ass down here and help me or I do it alone.”

With that, he moved away from the window, trying to ignore the flash of panic he saw on Derek’s face.

“Stiles! Stiles get back here!” he hissed, before briefly saying something to Scott. Stiles smiled when he heard him scramble up the wall and through the window, landing lightly in the room in no more than a minute tops.

“You’re an idiot you know that?”

“It may have been said before, yeah.”

Still angry, Derek stormed over to the window; grabbing the bags that Scott passed him and helping him through after it. Stiles ignored them and went about thinking of a way for them to get out. 

The door was obviously not going to happen, not unless the One Ring was lying around somewhere behind the mops and buckets, but surely it couldn’t be the only way out.

Vents!! Of course! Oldest trick in the book. He looked up and nearly let out a booming whoop of joy at the sight of a metal grate in the roof to the left hand side of the door. 

Turning to Derek and Scott, he beckoned them over. Scott rushed over with a still grumpy Derek trailing behind.

“Look! A grate! We can climb inside, crawl through it and when there isn’t a horde of flesh hungry living dead underneath us, we drop down and find our parents! I’ll go first to check it’s clear and then signal you two to follow! We can tie that rope around me so we know what’s happening without having to talk. It’s fool proof!”

Wow, if he’d thought Derek’s bitch face was impressive before, it was nothing on the one he was wearing now. That deserved some kind of reward surely! 

His bitch face appreciation was swiftly cut short as Derek stepped right into his personal space and glared at him dead in the eye with a look that could probably evaporate water.

“Listen to me right now Stiles. You. Are. Not. Going. It’s a stupid idea. What if the vents aren’t strong enough to hold you hmm? And you fall into the middle of those things. No. It’s not happening.”

Suddenly, Stiles was angry. Like, unbearably angry. He stepped even closer, their noses almost touching and rage in his eyes.

“No Derek, you listen to me! You don’t get to boss me around! You aren’t in charge of me! You can’t use your fucking Alpha voice on me and expect me to just do whatever the hell you want! I’m not yours to control!”

“I never said I wanted to control you! I just don’t want you to fucking die! So you aren’t doing it!”

Through his anger, Stiles was pretty sure he heard Scott mutter something along the lines of “I hate it when mom and dad fight.”

“Oh would you shut up Derek and listen to yourself! You sound like the same shitty Alpha you were four years ago!”

When hurt clouded Derek’s eyes, pushing the anger aside, Stiles knew he’d made a dick move. It rid him of his own rage almost instantly and he was left feeling nothing but nausea, especially when all the walls Derek normally left down when he was with Stiles shot back up, his face becoming an impenetrable mask. 

“I’m sorry Derek, I didn’t mean that okay. I’m just scared. I need to find my dad and Scott needs to find his mom. Please.”

Stiles knew he’d really fucked up when Derek didn’t even answer him. He just turned around and walked away.

The tension in the room was palpable and Stiles was struck dumb with guilt. He knew Derek regretted how bad of an Alpha he was at first and to not only throw that back in his face but to say that he hadn't changed either! Well, it was safe to say that Stiles had majorly screwed up. 

He hovered awkwardly as Derek began rummaging in the full rucksack, pulling out rope, a flashlight and another weapon.

"Erm, what are you doing?" 

Silence.

"Derek, look, I'm sorry. I really freaking am. But...please don't ignore me. What are you doing?"

Derek sighed, all but slamming the stuff he was holding back down as he shot up and stood in front of him again in an a matter of seconds.

"I'm going."

Panic shot through Stiles like an electric shock.

"What!? No! No fucking way! Why would you even do that!? You don't even like the plan!?"

"Well what do you expect me to do Stiles!?” he hissed, anger and barely hidden pain in his voice. “No I don't like the plan. It's dangerous and has far too many holes in it but what the fuck can I do hmm? Let you go? Not an option. So just...back off."

He stormed away; leaving Stiles stood in a state of shock. Dread swirled like a paralyzing fog through his body and mind, one phrase repeating itself over and over in his head.

What had he done?


	34. Chapter 34

A/N Hey m'loves :) Okay so this chapter was seriously fun to do research for, as it involved making my brother look like a tit xD As I don't want to spoil anything, this will probably sound daft till you've read the chapter but basically, I had to figure out a way for a character to get across a room whilst under certain disadvantages and as I'm a diseased cripple, it certainly wasn't going to be me testing it. Cue me shouting my brother and using him as my guinea pig xD Twas awesome xD

But on a more serious note, I've had a confidence crisis with this story recently. I'm really worried that you guys have stopped being engaged and interested with this. I know that it's a long story and that some chapters, upon reflection, haven't really added much to the storyline but please don't give up on it. I will endeavour to stop chapters like that happening in future and from now on, the chapters should be longer and more interesting. However, this may mean the gap between posts ends up being a bit longer, especially as I'm in the middle of moving and starting a new job. But I promise I won't ever forget about it or leave it for too long. I'd really, really appreciate it if I could get some feedback of you lot though on whether or not you still like it and especially on whether you'd like me to hurry up to the end (for which I have something very exciting planned) or just let it happen as it happens. But whether you comment or not, please don't give up on it.

Anyway, on to the chapter. I really hope you like it and that I hear from some of you :) Oh, and another thing, the formatting on this has seriously fucked up and the gaps are way too big, but it's stupid o'clock and I'm bloody knackered so can't be arsed fixing it right now. Hope it doesn't ruin it and I'll fix it later. Toodle pip :) xxxx

 

 

The awkward tension in the air was thick and choking, though only Scott could really notice it. Derek was too caught up in his anger and preparations and Stiles was too consumed by fear and guilt.

 

“Please don’t do this Derek. I didn’t mean what I said and you’re heavier than me! If anyone’s going to fall through the vents it’ll be you! Please!”

 

He wasn’t ashamed to say he was begging, he’d do anything to make Derek see sense and stay, but no matter what he said or did, Derek would not be swayed. He wouldn’t even look at him.

 

Swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat, Stiles moved to the corner and slid down the wall to sit on the floor, staying as far out of the way as possible. He was soon joined by Scott however, who dropped down next to him without a word. They stayed sat in silence for a few moments, Stiles’ head pillowed on his knees in despair before he felt an arm settle around his shoulders.

 

"Don't worry Stiles, he won't be mad forever. You know what he's like; you've just hurt him. He'll sulk for a bit but he'll come round. It's you."

 

 "What do you mean?"

 

"Oh come on!’ Scott exclaimed quietly. “Don't give me that! You know why! And if you don't you seriously should. You've danced around each other for years dude!"

 

"Oh shut up..." Stiles murmured, face heating up.

 

"Seriously! And you didn't see him whilst you weren't here. Haven’t seen him that freaked out since you were kidnapped and cut up by the Alpha pack! It was a nightmare! He barely slept, was even grouchier than usual and when Argent tried to say that maybe you hadn't made it, he nearly took his head off! And it's not like you haven't been pining after him for years. So for the love of God, do us all a favor and sort it out when we get home. Coz Lydia is like two steps away from just locking you both in a closet."

 

Stiles continued to blush as he stared fixedly at the floor. But underneath the churning guilt and dread, he felt a flicker of hope. If Derek could forgive him then maybe they could become more than what they'd been. Something that Stiles had wanted for so long but never really thought he could have.

 

He knew they'd been moving into new territory before he went back to college and the fucking apocalypse started, but he'd ways feared that maybe he was just looking into it too much. Seeing something that wasn't there simply because he wanted it so much. But maybe...

 

"Right, I'm going to start climbing through now."

 

If he didn't fucking die first that is.

 

"Scott, you keep hold of one end of the rope and I'll keep the other around my waist. I'll tug twice for danger and three times if it’s safe for you to come through."

 

Desperation filling him, Stiles jumped up and stepped in front of Derek, grabbing a hand as the Alpha tried to turn away and pulling him back.

 

"Derek, please! I'm freakin begging you now! Don't go. Let me go or we'll just think of something else. I'm sorry okay! God, I'm so sorry. But I don't want you to die because of me! I couldn't...I couldn't deal with that. If you die...I just... _please_ don't die."

 

He’d aimed to say something a little more coherent, but the second he opened his mouth, real words just fled and he was left tripping over his tongue and gasping with the sheer strength of how much he did not want Derek to fucking die!

 

His desperation must have struck a cord with Derek, as he finally met his eyes.

 

“Now you know how I felt.”

 

And with that, he turned away, leaving Stiles hurting but struck with sudden understanding. But still, how could he just let Derek go and possibly get hurt? Or, God forbid, worse!

 

“Derek I can’t let you go!”

 

The Alpha stood still, his back slumping slightly as he sighed, before turning slowly to look at Stiles with regret and guilt plain on his face.

 

“And I can’t let _you_. Scott, now.”

 

That was all the warning Stiles got before he felt hands clamp around his neck and press down hard on his jugular. He struggled desperately, mind piecing together what was happening seconds before he was sent plummeting into darkness.

 

Stiles regained consciousness gradually, moaning aloud as his head pounded with every beat of his heart. Confusion and pain were the only things he was aware of so he tried to stay as still as he could, holding back more groans and refusing to open his eyes.

 

He desperately wanted to sink back into the darkness once again but something in the back of his murky mind was shouting at him, making him feel like he was missing something very important, that there was something he was forgetting. But for the life of him, he just couldn’t think what.

 

It wasn’t until he went to rub his aching neck and found he was unable to, that it all came flooding back.

 

His eyes shot open as he struggled, ignoring how it made his head pound. He looked down and saw that he was sat against a wall, legs stretched out in front of him and thankfully unbound, but his hands tied together with rope behind him. Those fuckers!

 

Stiles growled in frustration, hating them both something fierce. He wanted to scream and shout at them, punch them bloody and make them understand that this was not fucking okay! He was angrier than he could remember being in a long time, and considering just how pissed off he’d been this past month, that was really saying something.

 

It wasn’t till Stiles looked down, head bowing in frustration, that he noticed the note and flashlight that had been left just a little bit to the left of him. It was hard to make out in the dim light streaming through the broken window, but it was possible.

 

_Stiles, please don’t be too mad at us okay? Derek’s just doing what he thinks is best. Being a werewolf means we can hear and smell the infected a lot quicker than humans can. Not to mention being faster and stronger. So basically, it’s safer for us than it is for you. Plus, whenever he thinks of you getting hurt or worse, dying, he nearly goes into cardiac arrest. Trust me, I can hear it._

_Right, Derek has just started through the vent so I’ve got like three seconds to finish writing this so I’ll be quick. I won’t have given you concussion coz I didn’t hit you over the head, I just blocked off your jugular vein for a couple of seconds. You shouldn’t be out too long or feel that shit coz of it, but if you are I’m so sorry dude. It was Derek’s idea and he pretty much ordered me to do it whilst you were over in the corner._

_But yeah, Derek’s safe, he’s in the vents right now and hasn’t tugged for danger yet which is a good sign. Once he’s passed over the zombie horde and found somewhere safe to get out, he’ll let me know and I’ll follow him, then we’ll both look for my mom and your dad. Please don’t follow us Stiles. I know you’ll find a way out of the ropes eventually but hopefully we’ll be back before then._

_Please. Don’t. Follow. Us._

_If we aren’t back before sunset then stay the night in the room and make your way back to the house in the morning. If we’ve been delayed then we’ll meet you there and if we haven’t, well, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I love you. And I don’t know if it’ll help if we’re dead, but please trust me when I say that your supposedly unrequited feelings aren’t so unrequited after all. Derek’s had it bad for a while now and missed you like crazy when you were at college. And actually was crazy when you were travelling through the freaking apocalypse. So if we make it back then for the love all that is good and holy, just sort it out okay!?_

_I better go now. Stay safe for us yeah? We’ll be okay and we’ll get them back. Love you dude, Scott x_

Stiles would have crumpled the paper up in anger if he’d had the use of his fucking hands. As it was, he could only bang his head back against the wall in frustration, the brief jolt of pain clearing his still slightly foggy thoughts. If they thought for one second that he’d just sit back and let them go off without him, then they were seriously freaking stupid.

 

Pushing aside the anger, Stiles turned his attentions to escaping the ropes wrapped around his wrists. They weren’t designed to hold him permanently, as it was more or less a death sentence should they not make it back to untie him, but they weren’t exactly going to be easy to get out of. The whole point was to incapacitate him long enough so that he’d spend all his time trying to get free instead of following Scott and Derek, hopefully giving them enough time to get back.

 

There was simply no way he could allow that.

 

Looking around, he desperately tried to find something to cut the ropes with. The knife he’d strapped to his thigh had been removed and was resting on top of a pile of boxes, useless for getting him out of the ropes but still available for him to use to get back to the house once he was free in case they hadn’t made it back. They’d even put his fucking bat up there too, just in case he tried to use the nail sticking out of it. The jerks had really thought this through.

 

Biting down on his anger once again, Stiles decided to focus on standing up first, as there was nothing ground level that he could use to cut the ropes. He just hoped they’d either missed something or he could reach his knife once on his feet.

 

He bent his outstretched legs, slowly folding them at the knee till they were both on one side. Pushing off the wall with his head, he bent forward and tried to use the momentum to get his bent legs underneath him.

 

Big no no.

 

He overbalanced too far and felt everything move in slow motion as he fell forwards, his face about to get very intimate with the concrete floor and no hands available to interrupt it.

 

Mother of God that hurt! Stiles could taste blood in his mouth so he assumed he’d bust his lip. Again. But luckily, he’d managed to turn his head to the side just in time, as the last thing he needed was a bleeding nose and no way to wipe it away.

 

Spitting out the blood in his mouth, he stayed where he was, eyes closed and panting heavily, suddenly very thankful that no one was around to see his epic failure.

 

He was sprawled face first on the ground, hands bound behind him and his legs bent awkwardly to one side. He felt like a worm. A really pathetic, lowly worm. No, not even a worm! A grub in fact! A wriggling grub of fail. God he was going to hit them both so fucking hard.

 

It wasn’t till he finally opened his eyes that he saw it. A shard of glass! Stiles could have cried for joy at the sight of the little piece of broken glass that was hidden behind a bucket on the other side of the room. It must have come from the window ages ago and had avoided Scott and Derek’s ruthless sweep of anything that could help him escape quicker. Ha!

 

Only one problem, getting it was going to be a bitch. Thinking for a moment, he decided that his best course of action would be to crawl as close as he could get, move the bucket out of the way and then find some way of getting it into his hands. Good Lord this was going to be humiliating.

 

Alas, there didn’t seem to be much place for pride in the zombie apocalypse, so if he had to wriggle then he’d damn well wriggle.

 

Steeling himself, Stiles began his long trek across the floor. He rolled to one side and used his legs to push himself forward, then repeated the same action on the other side. On and on he rolled and pushed, stopping every few minutes to catch his breath and roll his aching shoulders. It was a lot harder than he’d thought.

 

After what felt like hours but could only have been five minutes tops, Stiles reached the bucket, nudging it out of the way with his head and sending his rolling away. He stilled with a wince; that had been a lot noisier than he’d expected. He led there in tense silence, listening for a few seconds and only relaxing when he assured himself that he hadn’t been heard by the horde of infected outside the door.

 

Moving forward slightly, Stiles finally came face to face with the shard of glass, noting with glee that it should definitely be sharp enough to cut through the ropes quickly. Providing he actually managed to get it to his hands. Wanting to groan in frustration, as every second he wasted here was another second Scott and Derek were alone, he spat out the blood in his mouth once again and forced himself to stop and think.

 

Suddenly, inspiration struck him! He could pick it up with his mouth and then move it to the centre of the room where he’d have more space to turn onto his side and grab it from behind with his hands. Genius! It’d probably land him with even more blood in his mouth but hey, if it got him out it’d be worth it.

 

Feeling far more hopeful now that he had a decent plan and with the end in sight, Stiles crept forward just a little bit more and began trying to get the fucking thing in his mouth.

 

He was careful at first, not really wanting to lose his tongue or screw his lips up too much, but eventually frustration won out and he cut his bottom lip as he finally got the shard in his mouth. It stung like a bitch and he was probably going to get freakin tetanus or something considering the state of the floor, but he was too pleased to care. All that was left to do now was get the shard into his hand, cut himself free and he was done.

 

Stiles pointedly ignored the fact he still had to make it through the vents, find Scott and Derek, find his dad and Melissa and then get the hell out of dodge, as he began moving slowly and carefully across the floor once again. It was much harder once he had the glass in his mouth, as he had to keep his head higher, but eventually he made it and was extremely happy to drop the shard onto the floor. He spat yet more blood out of his mouth and gingerly touching his cut lip with his tongue, wincing slightly at the sting. It was an annoyance but he was sure he’d live.

 

Not wanting to waste any more time, Stiles quickly wriggled forward a little further, turned onto his side facing away from the glass and began feeling about with his bound hands. He brushed passed the shard a few times before finally managing to get a hold.

 

The sharp edges cut into his palms as he moved the shard around, trying to get it into a decent enough position to slide under the ropes. It hurt and he kept nicking his wrists, but it didn’t matter, it was finally beginning to work. He felt the sharp edges tear into the thick bonds and he quickened up his pace, ignoring the blood that was making his hands slip on the glass.

 

His shoulders were aching and his hands and wrists were probably cut to hell but finally, he cut through. Stiles only just managed to bite down on the cry of joy that had bubbled up in his throat as his hands snapped apart.

 

He brought them slowly around to the front, his shoulders creaking in protest before finally sitting up. It was a relief to not be led on the cold, hard floor but the sight of his cut up hands and wrists made him sigh. They were going to be irritating as hell, he just fucking knew it.

 

Gingerly rising to his feet, Stiles grabbed his knife off the box and used it to cut the sleeves off his plaid shirt. He then cut them into strips and wrapped them around his bleeding wrists and palms. There was nothing he could do for his fingers but at least it would stop his wrists and palms bleeding and hopefully keep them as clean as possible till they got back to the house or preferably until he found some actual medical supplies. Some bandages or plasters would be lovely, please and thank you.

 

Once his cuts were mostly bandaged up, he pushed their annoyance aside and turned his attention on escaping the room and finding Scott and Derek. He moved quickly around the room and went about collecting the things they’d left for him; strapping the knife back onto his thigh, shoving the flash light in the back pocket of his jeans and gripping his bat tight.

 

Stiles then looked over to the vent and was beyond relieved to see the rope hanging out of it. At least he knew he could follow it and see where they’d gotten out, greatly reducing his chances of getting hopelessly lost. It’d be just his luck to go the entirely wrong way.

 

Walking right up to the wall, he stood underneath the vent and tugged experimentally on the rope. He was pleased to find that it didn’t move and after pulling harder, he assumed they’d tied the other end onto something.

 

It was lucky for him that they had because despite the fact that Stiles was anything but short, the vent was still too high up for him to climb through on his own. With the ropes help though, he was sure he could climb up the wall and through the vent.

 

Steeling himself for how much it would likely hurt his cut up fingers and wrists, as well as his already aching shoulders, Stiles grabbed the end, placed one foot on the wall and began his climb. 


	35. Chapter 35

Hello my loves!!! Oh my God I'm so bloody sorry it's taken so long for an update!! I know I say that every time but I really, properly am. I do however have a very good reason: I'VE MOVED!!! WOOHOO!!!! It's finally all done and I have dragged my arse from horrible Britain to lovely, wonderful Palma, Mallorca!! :D Eeek it's all so very exciting and I'm just loving it ^__^ However, MY APARTMENT DOESN'T HAVE INTERNET YET!!!! *pterodactyl screech* It's killing me dead guys. I'm currently sat in my fave cafe bumming their internet and lovely coffee to get all this done, as not only do I have no internet, but my comp is still on its way to me -.- I miss it like a limb -.- But hopefully it shall all be sorted soon :) So yeah, with that and finally starting my new job, I've been super busy and hardly had time to sit down and enjoy the sun! So for the next two weeks or so, updates will be slow -.- but I'm still writing on my phone and planning shit so don't you worry :)   
And thank you so, so bloody much to the people who reassured me over this story, it didn't half help my confidence crisis ^__^ I'm honoured to have such lovely and supportive readers and I love you all to death ^__^ So yeah, I'll finish prattling on now, here's the next chapter, I hope you guys enjoy it :) Toodle pip :) 

 

Hauling himself up into the vent was trickier than Stiles had imagined, as it pulled his aching muscles and dug into his cut fingers, but he managed it none the less. Once inside the vent, he stopped to catch his breath and tried really hard to forget about just how fucking small it was!

Pushing himself from where he was sprawled on his stomach up onto his hands and knees, he decided to forgo the flashlight, shoving it back in his belt as he was afraid the light would be seen and was pretty confident that he could just follow the rope without it. 

Stiles began his crawl, going as quickly as he dared whilst still keeping noise to a minimum. He kept one hand close to the rope at all times in the gloom of the vents, terrified of getting lost. He was just getting into the swing of it when he heard the sounds he dreaded. Zombies. 

Stopping dead, he listened to the scratching, shuffling, dragging and moaning coming from below. He looked up from where his gaze had been glued to the metal below him and noticed that a patch of vent in front of him was noticeably lighter. Steeling himself, he crawled forward a bit before he saw something that sent apprehension shooting through him. A grate. A whole patch of the vent was a thin, decidedly not sturdy looking grate. 

He inched forward until his knees reached the very edge of where the normal metal of the vent floor dropped away to the grate. Bracing himself, he leaned forward to look down through it.

Ah. Not good. There seemed to be what was scientifically known as a shit ton of infected, swarming like ants all through the corridor. 

Stiles held his breath and tried to balance himself with one hand as the other gently pressed down on the thin bars in front of him. They creaked slightly, making him stop for a moment, but felt solid enough. If he hurried and was careful, he was pretty sure he could crawl over it without it breaking. Derek and Scott did it after all and they were much heavier than him.

He looked down again at the mass of zombies below him. From what he could tell, they were all locked in the corridor, the doors all along either side of the hall shut. They must have been locked in there before everyone evacuated the hospital, just like Derek predicted. 

Urgh. Derek. The more he was alone and allowed time to think, the more Stiles deeply, truly regretted what he'd said. He hadn't meant it at all, he was just so angry and scared and he just honestly thought he knew best. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he'd gotten too used to giving the orders. 

Determined to find them and make it up to him, Stiles steeled himself and started forward, pressing one hand down slowly on the side edge of the grate. He gradually increased the pressure he put on it, hearing it groan but hold strong. Mostly satisfied, he put a hand on the other side and slowly pressed down once again. It groaned further, making him freeze and watch the infected below him. They seemed to be getting more agitated for some reason, but he was sure they couldn't hear him, their groans and shuffles loud enough to drown it out. 

Deciding it was probably best to just get over the rest of the grate as quick as he could, Stiles pressed his knee down on the grate, followed by the other until he was suspended on all fours directly over the zombies, held by nothing more than a creaking grate. 

Said zombies seemed more riled up than ever before and it wasn't until a drop of blood fell from his cut wrists that he realized his mistake.

Stiles watched it fall in almost slow motion, cold dread filling him as he realized that there was absolutely nothing he could do. They would find him. 

All hell broke loose once the drop hit the floor. Those at either end of the hall rushed forward to find the source of the smell, bringing them directly underneath Stiles. He was stuck on his hands and knees over the writhing mass of starved, flesh hungry zombies with nothing more than a weak metal grate between them. It was then that he just knew the universe hated him. 

And oh how right he was.

With a great, echoing groan the back of the grate gave way, sending Stiles shooting forward to grab the other end of the vent before he found himself hanging from it, legs swinging madly above the zombies heads.

Barely suppressing a shriek, he lifted his legs up as high as he could manage, madly avoiding the swiping hands of the infected below him. His heart was hammering so loud he was surprised it wasn't echoing throughout the hospital and his cut up fingers and arms were burning where they clutched the edge of the vent desperately. 

Feeling a hand scrape past his boot, Stiles panicked and nearly let go in his rush to lift his legs up once more. He couldn't keep this up. His shoulders were already painful and his side was burning. He needed to get himself back in that vent as soon as fucking possible. No way in hell was he dying like some freakin zombie piñata!

God he missed Derek! He just wanted to find him and beg his forgiveness! Absolutely batter him as well because no matter what, taking away his free will was out of order, but he'd at least apologise first. Just as soon as he escaped this utterly shit situation he'd got himself into! 

More hands swiped at him, sending him swinging forward, only his iron grip on the metal above him keeping him from being sent plummeting into their deadly midsts. He needed to figure something out right freakin now.

Lifting himself up as much as his aching arms could manage, he tried to get a grip further up the vent. He hadn't anticipated it being so slippery however,  and was once again sent scrambling to keep his grip. Fuck, this really wasn't going how he planned. 

Keeping himself suspended above the zombies was putting serious strain on him and Stiles knew for a fact that he wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer, and certainly wouldn't be able to last another swipe from them. He needed to get back in that vent now. 

Looking up desperately, he noticed the rope still sat just inside of the vent. That was it! If he could pull himself up just long enough to grab the rope, he could use it to pull himself up to safety. He just had to hope to God it was attached to something solid on the other side. 

Gathering the last of his strength, his arms shaking from effort, Stiles hauled himself up as far as he could manage and reached out blindly, fingers scrambling at empty vent until finally, finally his fingers brushed the rope. He grabbed it desperately and clung to it with all he had, just in time for his other hand to slip off the metal. 

Stiles grabbed the rope tight with both hands, a panicked yelp escaping him as he swung madly, the infected following his every move and falling over themselves in their hurry to grab his flailing legs. Breathing like an asthmatic running a marathon, Stiles began heaving himself up the rope, one hand briefly leaving it to grab the edge of the vent before finally pulling himself up and over.

Collapsing on the cool metal safe inside the vent, Stiles tried to control his breathing and manically beating heart, listening to the pissed of growls and grunts of zombies denied their dinner. Ha! Take that fuckers! 

His arms shook as he pushed himself up once more, the cuts along his hands and wrists pulled open and bleeding sluggishly once again. There was nothing he could do about them however, except tie his makeshift bandages tighter around the deeper cuts, so he just resolved to be more careful around the zombies. He was a sweaty, bleeding mess of a human and the smell would attract the infected wherever he went. But hey, shit happens, he'd just have to be more observant and clever in future.

On his hands and knees once more, Stiles began following the rope again, keeping his movements slow and steady, both through his own fatigue as well as his fear of drawing more unwanted attention. He just hoped to God that he'd find Scott and Derek soon. 

No sooner had he finished hoping, that he noticed a grate coming up once more, this time however, it was already open and the rope was hanging down through it. He'd obviously found where they had exited from. 

Crawling up to it and carefully sticking his head over the gap, Stiles noticed the corridor below thankfully empty of any infected and saw that the rope was tied tightly to a door handle. Well, that was a scary thought. Turns out that he'd been swinging above a horde of zombies held by nothing more than a door handle. He was certainly glad he didn't know about it at the time. 

Planning his decent, Stiles decided to forget about the now flimsy looking door handle and just swing down on the rope. Making sure his bat, knife and flashlight were all secure in his belt or their holders, he swung his legs through, grabbed the rope and lowered himself down.

It didn't exactly go as gracefully as Stiles had anticipated, instead turning into a quick scramble to the ground slowed down only by his painful grip on the rope, but hey, he landed alive so it was going down as a success in his book. 

Pulling out his trusty bat, he looked around for any signs of the infected or Scott and Derek. He knew they came through this way so all he had to do was figure out where they went. He was just puzzling it out when he heard something. 

Moving swiftly, he headed over to the corner and hid behind a pile of boxes and a broken medical trolley. It wasn't an ideal hiding place but he had no time to climb back up the rope. Peaking through the gap in his makeshift hideout, Stiles watched the other end of the corridor, the sounds of footsteps and what seemed to be voices coming closer.

He hoped it was Scott and Derek, but knew they would probably have smelt him by now and stormed over to tear a strip off him. So as it was, he was pretty sure these were something new, whether for good or bad he had yet to determine.

The sounds became louder before two men appeared from around the corner. Stiles jerked back in shock, he hasn't expected any other humans to have braved the hospital, let alone be alive there! The men seemed to be on a patrol, as they examined some of the doors and looked alert, one holding a truncheon and the other wielding a vicious looking serrated knife. They looked, for want of a better word, thuggish, the kind you expected to be club bouncers, private security or, far more likely, gang members.

Stiles sunk further back against the wall, hoping he wouldn't be seen when the men came closer, something telling him that these were not people he wanted to find him. Practically holding his breath as they came past him, he noticed that although they had seen the rope, actually going over and looking at it, they didn't seem surprised about its presence. This sent a horrible thought shooting through him; if they knew about the rope, maybe they knew who came down it. Maybe they knew about Scott and Derek. 

Stiles waited until they had passed him once more and made their way back down the corridor, turning the corner out of sight before he jumped from his hiding place and as silently as he could manage, moved down the corridor after them. 

It was risky, as there was hardly anything that could offer him cover should they turn around, but instinct was telling him that those men were connected to Scott and Derek, maybe even his dad and Melissa too, so no matter what he had to try. 

As he passed the doors in the hall, he noticed some had a large black cross painted on them, which Stiles assumed meant that they held the infected within them. Those must have been the doors that the men had been checking, maybe they'd even been the ones to lock the zombies in there. The more he saw the more he was certain that there was something much larger going on here.

Sneaking around the corner, Stiles was just in time to see the men disappear through a door at the very end of the hall. Abandoning all pretense of hiding, he all but legged it down the hall, briefly noting that almost all the surrounding doors now had crosses on them, before he came to a stop and took in the door in front of him.

This was once the entrance to the ER, its large double doors now mostly barricaded with worn and scratched wooden planks, only one side looking able to open. Stiles pressed his ear to the door and listened, hearing what was definitely more than two voices inside. He couldn’t make out what they were saying very clearly, but a few words made it through.

Prisoners. Interrogating. Weird healing.

Dread filled his veins with ice. They had Scott and Derek, he was sure of it. Maybe even his dad and Melissa too. For fuck sake, as if the freakin zombie apocalypse wasn’t bad enough! 

Forcing himself to transform the burning helplessness and anger into determination, Stiles began to plan. There were obviously more than a few people in there and if they could get the jump on Scott and Derek then he didn’t have a cat in hells chance of taking them on. So he’d have to use his own strengths instead.

Looking at the ceiling above him, Stiles tried to recall the layout of the vent, pretty sure that he’d seen it carry on over the corridor and through to the ER. If he could climb back in, crawl through and have a peak at what was going on, then he could come up with a plan to free everyone. And for the thugs sakes, they damn well better be unharmed.


	36. Chapter 36

A/N Hey again guys! Okay, just a quick note this time as I'm posting this at work (only internet I get these days -.-) and would rather not be caught. So yeah, I hope you enjoy this and I love you alll dearly :D Toodle pip :)

 

Fucking vents. Stiles was seriously, entirely and irrevocably sick to the back teeth of fucking vents. If he never saw another vent for the rest of his life, short as it may end up being, then it'd be too freakin soon.

Safe to say, the sooner he got out of the vent he was currently crawling through, the better. As it was, he was sneaking his way above the corridor he'd just exited from and hoping to make it through to the ER. The tricky bit however, was doing all that silently. 

It wasn't zombies he was crawling above anymore, it was actual living people who could hear and use their brains to figure out there was a pale, skinny weakling of a guy hiding in the vents above their heads, attempting to rescue two, hopefully four people from the hands of a gang of well armed, steroid pumped thugs and get them out of a zombie infested hospital with nothing more than brains, sarcasm and a baseball bat. 

Yeah. He was fucked. 

But hey, he'd carry on regardless no matter the odds. If there was one thing Stiles prided himself on, it was his determination to help the people he loved. No matter the cost or what he had to do to achieve it. 

Holy God! Surely the corridor wasn't this long! Practically growling with frustration, Stiles sped up his crawling as much as he dared until he finally began hearing voices and saw the tell tale light of a grate just ahead.

Slowing down once more and crawling ever so quietly, Stiles kept his ears open at all times, listening to the voices below him. One sounded angry and Stiles could hear what he was sure was the sounds of a beating. Someone was being interrogated, violently at that, and Stiles just knew with a certainty that sent ice shouting through him, that it was someone he loved. 

But the thought did nothing to prepare him for the reality.

He reached the vent, braced himself and looked down. He felt like his heart had stopped. Each image was worse than the last.

All four of them, tied up, bloody, hurting.

His dad, slumping limply in the chair he was tied to, blood streaming from his head, staining his shirt red. His lips bloody, eye black. 

Melissa, bound but awake, lip split, cheek bruised and grazed.

Scott, clothes splattered with blood from wounds long healed, eyes fixed constantly on his mom, low growls emanating from his chest.

And Derek, the subject of the current questioning. From his spot above the ER, Stiles could see and hear everything, which at the moment was more of a curse than a blessing.

His Derek, because by now Stiles had pretty much accepted the fact that his heart had claimed the Alpha for his own, was bound tight to a chair with more ropes than any of the others and was being laid into by three different goons, one stood to the side asking questions or sometimes just simply laughing. 

The fury that welled up inside him was sudden and all consuming, making him want to drop through the grate and introduce them all to the business end of his bat. 

But he'd be no good to them dead, so with an inordinate amount of effort, Stiles restrained himself, nails digging crescents into his palms he was clenching his fists so tight. 

It probably should have shocked him to realize that he actually wanted to kill them. But then again, he'd known for years that he'd do anything for those he loves. 

Biting back his suddenly cruel and murderous impulses, Stiles looked away, feeling like a traitor for doing so. God it was all his fault. But he refused to let the guilt overwhelm him, pushing it far away in his mind where he could deal with it once they were all safe. It was all up to him now. 

After frantically checking out what he could see of the ER for anything he could use to help him, Stiles reluctantly decided that he was going to have to play the waiting game. He fucking hated waiting. Especially when he had to be still and silent. So being stuck in a dark, tiny vent whilst having to be still and silent whilst also listening to his friends and family being beaten is pretty much Stiles' idea of hell. 

Ten minuets later and he had started to bite nervously on his nails.

Fifteen minuets later and they were chewed to within an inch of their lives. 

Twenty minuets later and he could taste blood in his mouth from biting his lip too hard.

Twenty five minuets later, just as he was about to scream, drop down there and just go for it, he finally caught a break. 

The voices of one of the thugs drifted up to the vent and Stiles nearly yelped with joy. They were leaving. Two wanted a smoke before they had to go off on another patrol and the other was ordered to go help the boss, whoever the hell that was, which only left one. The laughing one. 

Granted he looked like he could crush Stiles between his finger and thumb without a second thought, but at least he was alone. If Stiles managed to drop down and get behind him without the guy noticing, then he could whack him over the head with his bat. And probably take great pleasure in it too.

Despite the huge risks, this was the best plan Stiles could come up with and he couldn't afford to waste time. He needed this done and his family out before the others came back. Nodding to himself, resolve strong, he began slowly and quietly opening the vent, pulling the grate off and laying it off to the side. He checked all his weapons were in the right place, waited until the man moved in front of Derek once more, giving him a kick and mocking him, before Stiles swung his legs through the gap and dropped.

By some divine fucking intervention, Derek growled at the guy just as Stiles landed, mostly masking the sound of his feet landing surprisingly lightly on the ground. 

Eyes on the four captives in front of him, Stiles saw the exact moment that they noticed him, Derek especially. His face flashed a subtle display of emotions: surprise, then fear, but also pride and dare he say it, relief. 

Nodding at Derek, Stiles began moving forward, just as Derek began struggling and growling, drawing the attention of the guy in front of him without being so loud as to attract more. It worked perfectly, as the guy cracked his knuckles joyfully and began punching the Alpha brutally.

Rage ignited inside of him with such ferocity he was surprised he didn't burst into flames and begin reigning fiery retribution down on the bastard’s head. 

Well, in the absence of flames, Stiles would just have to reign judgment down on him with his bat instead. 

Standing behind the guy, Stiles didn't even hesitate before raising his bat and swinging, hard, smashing against the man’s head with a sickening thwack, his huge form crumpling to the floor instantly. 

"Stiles! Oh my God man I can't believe you're here! Dude you've save our asses big time!"

Ignoring Scott, Stiles rushed first to his dad. Jesus Christ. He was a wreck. His dad had obviously taken the brunt of the beatings when it had just been him and Melissa, and without werewolf super healing, he was left in an utter state. 

Dropping down to his knees in front of him, he grabbed his dagger and quickly cut the ropes tying him to the chair, catching his slumped form as he tilted forward without the support of the ropes.

"Dad. Dad! Oh God I'm so sorry it took me so long. I'm sorry! But hang on please, it'll be okay I promise."

He could hardly get the words out, the fucking golf ball sized lump in his throat stopping it. He brushed a hand gently over his dads head, just as the Sheriff did when Stiles was hurt or upset as a child. Pack aside, his dad was all the family he had left and he couldn't bare to lose him.

"...Stiles?"

His head shot up at the croaky, barely-there voice he'd been waiting to hear all through this last month of hell. Even if hearing his dad sounding like a mere shade of himself killed him inside.

"Stiles…is that really you?"

A choked half sob escaped him as he grabbed his dad’s hand tight in his.

"Yeah dad, I'm here. It’s me. I found you! And I didn’t get all the way here for you to leave me now okay. So you hang in there and we’ll get you back and it’ll all be okay. I love you dad.”

Tears were making their way down his face as he gently squeezed his dad’s hand, feeling a tiny measure of relief when he squeezed back, albeit very weakly. It was also a good sign that he actually recognized him and spoke; maybe his head wound wouldn’t turn out to be too bad. 

“Stiles, I need you to untie us okay? Then I can carry your dad and we’ll get the fuck out of here.”

Derek’s quiet voice made its way through the haze of sorrow and sheer, utter fear but he didn’t respond, too busy trying to comfort his dad and check the rest of his many injuries.

“Come on Stiles, if you don’t hurry up they’ll catch us and we’ll all die. I need you to pull it together. Untie me and I’ll do the rest.”

His dad nodded blearily and only then did Stiles take in Derek’s words and recognize their validity. He gave his dads hand one last squeeze and lent him against the back of the chair before reluctantly pulling himself away. 

He moved in a daze, slicing through the many ropes wrapped painfully tight around Derek and unwinding the chains that had also been used to restrain him. The sight of the blood soaking his clothes and the many slices in the cloth sent more waves of pure anger and hatred through him, as well as worry and pain. 

The Alpha was quiet throughout it all, but as soon as he was free he grabbed Stiles and pulled him into an embrace, holding him tightly. Stiles didn’t move for a second, but soon melted into the hug, taking strength from the strong heartbeat he could feel through Derek’s chest where it was pressed against his own. 

“They said they’d find you. They overheard us talking before they captured us and brought us here. They said they’d kill you and make us watch if I didn’t tell them where we came from or what we are. Then they told me they’d found you. God, the things they said. I thought I’d killed you…”

The confession was whispered into his hair, so quiet Stiles almost didn’t hear it. Knowing they didn’t have much time, adrenalin, fear and pain fuelling him, Stiles did what he’d wanted to do for so long.

He kissed him. 

It was nothing more than a gentle press of lips against lips, but it held a promise of things to come and held a weight only found when feelings had been held back and denied for too long. 

It was perfect.

Breaking the kiss gently, they locked eyes and made a silent promise to figure things out when they were safe once more. Although they both finally had what they’d wanted for so long, Stiles’ heart soaring despite the situation, they still had lots to reconcile, the past few hours especially, but at least they finally knew. No more maybes or some days, they finally knew. And Stiles was not going to lose that. 

Determination flooding through him, Stiles stepped back and together, they got Scott and Melissa free, the latter immediately rushing to each other and embracing. Stiles was relieved to see that she was mostly unharmed, pride for his dad filling him. Once they were safe he would tell his dad what a hero he was and how much he’d missed him. God he needed to be okay. 

Together, Derek and Stiles moved quickly over to the barely conscious Sherriff, gently pulling him out of the chair and settling him against Derek’s broad frame, draping his arm across his shoulders and letting the Alpha take his weight. 

Stiles knew that Derek could easily lift the older man, but he thought his dad would like to keep some of his pride and not be carried like a swooning bride. If the current arrangement slowed them down however, he’d have to deal with it. Better his dignity getting bruised than being dead. 

Once they were all more or less standing and ready to move out, Stiles turned to face them, a huge problem smacking him in the face.

“Okay, so my dad is way too injured for us to go back through the vents. He won’t make it through on his own and none of us could help him once we’re in there. Plus I sort of knocked one of the grates out and nearly fell into a pit of zombies. So you guys can either go through the vents and out the way we came in and I’ll find another way with my dad, or we figure something else out.”

Derek winced as Stiles mentioned the pit of zombies, but jumped in as soon as he was finished talking, forbidding them from splitting up now that they were all back together. Relieved, Stiles agreed, despite not wanting to endanger them any further. 

“Something else it is then. Whilst I was up in the vent, I passed over the empty corridor on the other side of the ER doors, so we could make a break for it through there and try some of the doors in the hall. I know it’s not much but it’s all we’ve got.”

They agreed, knowing they really didn’t have a leg to stand on and needing to get the hell out of dodge as quick as possible. 

“Wait! I almost forgot!” came Mellissa’s voice from where she was being held up by Scott, urgency colouring it and making him turn immediately. 

“Before they found us, we’d managed to find supplies! They took them off us but have hardly touched them I think. I have three bags full of medical supplies that your dad desperately needs as well as food supplies from the kitchens. We can’t leave without them, you have to find them!” 

Weighing the need against the risk in his head, he decided instantly that it was worth it, but glanced at Derek first, making the conscious effort to see what he thought they should do. Derek seemed to recognise his actions for what they were, a quick apology for not considering his opinion before, and nodded.

“Okay, where did they put them?”

“I don’t know; we were already tied up at the time. But I know they walked in that direction with orders not to touch anything till the boss got back. I don’t know if they’ve used anything by now but even if they did, they couldn’t have used it all and anything that’s left will be essential.”

“Okay, I’ll go look. If I’m not back in the next few minutes or you hear anyone coming back, just set off without me and I’ll catch up I promise.”

Not hanging about long enough to hear their reply, Stiles shot off to the back of the ER, taking note of how the thugs had barricaded and defended it to prevent any infected getting in. He was nearly at the back when he heard quiet voices and saw light coming from the back room. And then he saw them, the bags. 

Right to the side of the door.

Letting out a silent string of curses that could make a sailor blush, Stiles ducked behind a bed to hide himself as he decided what to do. He could see the bags were still mostly full and Mellissa had been pretty adamant that they were needed to help his dad. But at the same time, he really, really did not want to get caught. But if he wanted to help his dad he didn’t have a choice.

Keeping low to the ground, Stiles made his way over to the bags, trying to keep out of the partially open doors line of sight. The few men inside seemed busy talking and smoking, but all it would take is one to look and the game was up. Fuck he was sick of situations like this. Seriously. 

He made it to the bags, slowly hefting them on to his shoulders and cringing every time they made even the smallest of sounds. Forget zombies and armed thugs, it’ll be the fucking stress that kills him in the end! 

Yes! Done! All three bags secure on his shoulders, he begins his trek back, moving over to the safe cover of the beds and making his way swiftly back to his anxiously waiting friends. Thank God.

“Yes! Go Stiles!”

Flashing a smile at Scott’s quiet cheering, they moved to the doors, Stiles stepping in front and trying to open them. The whole glass front had been heavily blocked off and barricaded, only one side even able to open anymore. Pushing against it, he found it wouldn’t budge, forcing him to push harder against it.

He hadn’t anticipated the noise the door might make.

The roughly cut wood scraped against each other with a loud groan, resulting in an echoing curse as the men clambered out of the back room and rushed forward, spotting them instantly and letting out a cry of “get them!”

Shit.

“RUN!”


	37. Chapter 37

A/N Heya guys :D Phew!! This is officially the longest chapter of the story so far and Jesus wept it's been evil!! You lot are about to go through the emotional ringer. Mwuhahahahahaha! Also, this is sort of the beginning of the end of my storyline now I think, as actions in this chapter will have biig ripples...But before that all starts, I have a little lull planned, so if there's anything you want to see happen then let me know and I'll do my best to work it in :D  
Hope you enjoy (well, not sure if enjoy is really the word, but it's the thought that counts xD) so yeah, I love you all guys! Toodle pip :) 

 

Pushing the door open the rest of the way, Stiles ushered everyone through, hurling himself after them and speeding down the hall, the five men hot on their heels. He knew the hall was long and winding, but once they reached the end they would be stuck, caught between a rock and a hard place. They would have no choice but to escape through one of the many doors that lined the hall. The problem was that many of the doors would be locked or full of infected, most probably both.

Risking a glance behind him, he saw the angry, well-armed group of five following him and decided they'd have to risk it.

Catching up, he noticed that Derek was now holding his dad in a fireman's lift, enabling him to run faster with Scott and Melissa leading the way, casting their eyes about for any exit. Just before they reached the end of the corridor Scott jolted forward and grabbed the handle of the closest door, letting out a triumphant noise as he found it unlocked, wrenching it open and darting inside.

Before immediately running back out again

His face the very picture of terror, he grabbed his mom and pulled her back the way they came. Stiles was confused about what the hell he was playing at until the first bunch of crazed, starving zombies began pouring out of the door.

Skidding to a stop, he shouted "everybody back!!!" before catching Derek's free hand and pulling him and his dad away just in time.

They turned the corner just as the thugs did and they all collided into each other, Derek knocking one to the ground, Stiles scrambling between two and Scott and Melissa just making it through the other’s outstretched arms.

"Shit! Biters!"

Stiles heard then men shout warnings and begin legging it away from the infected as quick as they could, their chase of the escaped captives being violently thrown to the wayside as they scrambled to avoid a gruesome death.

Stiles and his group were soon overtaken by one of the men who ran past them and pushed the ER door open, Stiles following soon after and preventing him from locking them all out to save his own skin. Hearing screams echo down the hall, his heart stopped momentarily, until Derek ran into view still carrying his unconscious dad with Scott and his mom quick on his heels.

They crashed through the door Stiles held open before he slammed it shut, not giving a flying fuck if the other guys were still alive or not. They repeatedly and violently hurt the people he loved and he'd kill them with his bare hands if it would save his family. Luckily he heard nothing but the groans and growls of the infected as they smashed against the doors like a wave, their nails scratching the wood with single minded determination in their desperate effort to get in and slaughter all they found.

He strained against them, forcing the door shut with strength he didn't know his skinny ass body possessed whilst Derek set his dad down with surprising gentleness and rushed to help, his supernatural strength allowing them to force it shut all the way, trapping a rotting arm and breaking it off with a squelchy crack.

"Get stuff to hold it closed!" Stiles shouted over his shoulder, hearing Scott, Melissa and surprisingly enough, the last thug left, rush around collecting anything and everything that could possibly help hold the door shut.

As he was busy jamming pieces of wood, metal and gurneys in front of the door, he was suddenly reminded of the scene in The Fellowship of the Ring where Aragorn, Legolas and Boromir were blocking the door from approaching Goblins in the Mines of Moria. It probably wasn't really the time to start trying to decide which of them he, Derek and Scott were. Or to start thinking of it at all. Jesus Stiles, focus!

Once the door was as secure as it was going to get they backed away, Stiles casting his eyes about frantically for another way out, the fact that he knew the door wouldn't hold for long echoing round and round in his head.

So far it was looking like the thugs properly dropped a bollock with how much they’ve blocked the room up. Any windows where utterly barricaded and there didn’t seem to be any other doors. Fuck.

As his head started spinning in panic, he noticed the man try to sneak away out of the corner of his eye. Stiles watched as he snuck to the back of the room and through the door where they´d all previously been smoking and talking. His heart sped up. Could it be that the guy knew of another exit?

Signaling Derek, he pointed at the guy currently ducking into the room and not reappearing again. Realization lit up the Alpha´s hazel eyes as he nodded and alerted Scott and his mom, before moving to pick up his dad once again.

Together they followed the guy, Stiles not worrying about catching up too closely because of their pretty distinct advantage; werewolf senses. No matter what, the man will not be able to give them the slip.

Confident in this fact, they took their time with the pursuit, not wanting him to realize he was being followed, wanting him to focus only on getting out and therefore, leading them out too.

He didn't seem the brightest of the bunch by Stiles’ reckoning, far more brawn than brain, so he hoped they wouldn’t even have to interact with him. He just wanted to get home now. To get his dad safe and to finally sort everything out with Derek. They just needed to survive first.

They reached the door of the back room, Stiles signaling that he’d go through first before ducking down and carefully looking inside.

Finally! Some freaking luck! At the back of the little storeroom was a metal door. The room was empty so Stiles assumed even with his own inferior senses that the guy had gone through. He whispered an okay, knowing the werewolves would hear it, before carefully opening the door. It wasn’t locked thank God, the guy probably in too much of a hurry or unable to do it, so it opened straight away with hardly a noise.

Sticking his head out gingerly, Stiles saw that it opened out into the private areas of the hospital; the bits only staff was meant to access. He stepped out into the long, dark corridor and was forced to wait for the werewolves, as he didn’t have a clue which direction to go.

“That way.” Came a low growl at his elbow, as he startled from Derek’s sudden appearance. Nodding, he set off, Derek carrying his dad next to him and with Scott helping his mom along behind. He really hoped it wouldn’t come down to them having to leg it, as he wasn’t sure their injured members would allow for it.

He subconsciously reached out in the dark for his dad, grasping his limp, dangling hand. Fear and pain shot through him as his dad didn’t respond when he squeezed. He let go, heart in his throat before he felt a large, warm hand envelop his now empty one.

Looking to his side, he saw Derek’s free hand holding his, tethering him to the present and not the terrifying possibilities of the future. It made him feel safe in a dangerous world.

Together, they led the way down the corridor, Stiles relying on the wolf’s superior eyesight in the murky gloom. Suddenly, the Alpha stopped stock still, eyes shooting to a point just in front of them as he pulled Stiles sharply to a halt next to him.

“What? Derek, what is it?” he whispered, the familiar coils of fear trailing up his stomach.

“Listen. Behind that door over there.”

Straining his human ears, he faintly made out the sounds of growls, scratching and, most frightening of all, the sudden sound of a lock being broken.

Stiles had just enough time to push Derek back, shouting for him to protect his dad before he pulled his bat from his belt and swung at the first approaching zombie in one smooth, well practiced move.

Stiles tore into the zombies with a single-minded ferocity borne of constant fear and exhaustion. His bat swung down hard and fast, breaking bones and smashing brains. So far they were lucky, only a few infected having been trapped in the room. They weren't so lucky however, in that they'd gone so long without flesh, that the smell of all the human blood was driving them wild.

He'd already taken down four when he felt a familiar presence behind him, spinning round to see Derek with a jagged piece of metal stabbed in the head of a zombie that had obviously snuck up behind him.

Gratitude rose in him, with panic following close behind.

"You're dad's fine, Scott's protecting them

Stiles shot him a grateful smile before they turned and stood back to back, fighting fluidly together. In that moment, time seemed to slow, nothing else mattering but the feel of Derek's strong back against his as they defended themselves and their family. Together they'd take on the whole world if it kept their loved ones safe.

After a few close calls and lots of gore, the infected were finally dead at their feet. Well, more dead. Surrounded by bodies, blood covering them and grins feral, they looked like the savage warriors of old.

"Right, we need to move now. God knows what will have heard all that."

Derek nodded, casting his head about, red eyes flashing as he checked for any more threats to his Pack. Sensing none in the immediate vicinity, he stalked back to we're he'd lain the Sheriff against the wall, Melissa tending to him and Scott standing guard over them both. He was just about to pick him up once more when the Sheriff stirred, struggling weakly against Derek's hold and asking for his son.

"I'm here dad, I'm here. Are you okay? What do you need?" Stiles spluttered out, grabbing his dad's hand and gripping it tight, cringing at the blood making his palm sticky.

"Tell Hale...that if he picks me up...like that again... I'll shoot his ass...werewolf or not..."

Stiles was unable to hold in the grin and chuckle his dads words pulled out of him.

"I'll make sure he knows. You okay to walk with help then?"

The Sheriff nodded. "Get me up then...been on my ass for days. But let me talk to Derek first...you check on Melissa..."

Frowning slightly at his dad’s odd behavior and weak, breathless voice, he stood, moving over to where Scott stood with his mom, gently supporting her as she stood on shaky legs. He asked her if she was okay and talked to them both briefly, keeping an eye on Derek and his dad at all times.

His dad stayed sat against the wall, Derek crouched in front of him listening intently with a strange look on his face as his dad spoke to him. After a few moments, the Sheriff finished talking and clasped Derek's shoulder, staring at him hard and earning a short response and nod from the Alpha, before he rose to his feet and helped his dad to his.

Stiles was beyond curious as to what the conversation had been about. He knew his dad well enough to recognize when he was saying something of real importance, and he knew Derek enough to know when something had struck a nerve with him or thrown him for six. Hopefully he'd either find out or get it out of the men later.

At his dads gesture, Stiles walked back over to the two men.

"Okay, me and Hale have had enough physical contact to last us a while, so help your old dad up will ya."

"You're welcome to have him. I thought you'd had him on a diet?"

Smirking once more at the banter that always passed between them, Stiles wrapped an arm under his dad's and across his shoulder, supporting him but allowing him to stand in his own shaking legs.

Smiling softly at Derek over his dads shoulder as he assembled the troops, all of them alert with weapons ready as they moved down the corridor once more. According to Derek, the man’s smell was still strong but mixed with the unmistakable scent of death and the infected. They'd have to be extra careful, if the last lot could break through the locks in this part of the hospital, then others could too. Maybe the guy had already encountered that particular brand of fun and lost. Stiles hoped he'd at least have led them to the hospital exit before he'd been torn to shreds.

“Stiles, there’s something wrong. Something doesn’t feel right…” Derek muttered when they reached the end of the hall, stopping and going utterly still. Stiles turned and looked at him questioningly, trusting the Alpha's senses and tightening his hold on his dad and his bat.

Suddenly, growls erupted from Derek's chest as his eyes flashed red, claws at the ready, Scott doing the same and pushing his mom behind him. Stiles wasn't left feeling out of the loop for very long, as the door in front and to the left of them crashed open revealing the one they'd been tracking.

He didn't look like the man they'd last seen though. He was covered in blood, shaking and jerking all over, a glazed and more than slightly crazy look in his eyes. He spotted them, a feral grin spreading over his features.

"You! You fffuckers! This is all your fault! Gggot me they did. Those bbbiters. But not like nnnormal biters, oh nnno! Fucking smart sons of bbbitches! And they'll be bbback! Yes they will, they'll bbbe coming after me! Finish the job! But I won't be here for that, nnno I won't! So you fuckers need to help me ggget away! If you know what's gggood for you!"

He paced back and forth as he talked, unable to keep still as the words tumbled out of his mouth, stuttering and slurring together. His head kept snapping side to side, like an involuntary twitch and his eyes rolled this way and that.

Suddenly it hit Stiles.

"You were bit weren't you?"

The man swung to face him, as though he'd only just noticed he was there. He stepped forward jerkily, making Stiles immediately pull back, taking his dad with him. 

"No!! Not fffucking bit! Not bit not bit NOT BIT!!"

The sudden scream made them all step back, everything about this guy screaming dangerous. He twitched again and started pawing at the front of his blood drenched shirt, pulling the torn edges open to reveal three long and deep looking scratches in his stomach, oozing coagulating blood that did not look natural.

"Got scratched I did bbbut that's okay, that's okay. Scratched don't turn you, it dddoesn't...doesn't..."

He trailed off again pushing at the gauges in fascination, no sign of pain on his face. The infection had already taken hold. Unwrapping the arm holding his dad from around his shoulders, he held it out in what he hoped was a placating manner.

"Look, the infection...you already have it. It's too late."

Bad move. Burning anger spread over his face, his feverish eyes harsh and merciless.

"No!! Shut the fuck up!! I'm fine and you need to tttell me where the fuck you came from! I need to get there nnnow!! Away from those nightmare back there!!" he screamed, glancing behind him in terror before turning back, face morphing to anger once more.

"So, last chance. Tell me where the fffuck do you came from!?"

"Sorry, not going to happen."

Stiles voice was steady but firm, even as his heart was hammering in his chest, the man's irrationality and unpredictable mood swings worrying him just as much as the fact he was infected.

Turns out he was right to be when the man pulled out a gun from his back pocket and aimed it at him.

"Too bad."

He pulled the trigger.

Time slowed, he was sure if it. The second that bullet left the gun, eager to taste blood, time stopped moving. And yet, Stiles could do nothing but stare it down, knowing it was coming for him. He could only watch it moving closer and closer as he thought about the things that truly matter.

His dad.

His friends.

Derek.

He'd just found them again and now it was all being taken away. How was that fair? But he'd learnt long ago at his mother’s deathbed that life wasn't fair.

He closed his eyes, refusing for the last thing he ever saw to be the twitching, manic face of the infected man who pulled the trigger. He heard a roar from behind him and it tore at his heart. He knew just who that agonized sound came from.

Time restarted again when he felt himself pushed violently to the side.

“NO!”

Stiles watched as his dad stood where he had been just a few seconds ago, his hand slowly moving to cover the growing blossom of blood staining his shirt.

"Dad!"

Launching himself up, he grabbed his dad as his legs buckled, carefully lowering them both to the ground and pulling the bleeding man into his lap.

Oh God oh God oh God this can't be happening!

Stiles pushed his hands down hard on the bullet wound in his dad's chest, uncomfortably close to his heart. But the blood was coming so quick it was like putting his finger in a dyke to try and stop it flooding.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the guy twitch and moan, concentration scattered as the infection began taking hold, prompting him to lose his grip on the gun, sending it skidding away as he dropped to the floor groaning.

Focusing all his attention on the man bleeding out in his arms, Stiles pulled his plaid shirt off and balled it up, pressing it hard against the wound.

“Dad! Oh God, dad! Please hold on okay! It’s going to be fine! I’ll save you I promise! Why did you do that!? You, you shouldn’t have done that! Please don’t leave me dad!” he sobbed desperately, trying to comfort his dad but at the same time plead with him not to die. Because Stiles wasn’t an idiot, he knew how serious a gunshot wound was in the best of situations, but like this? During the fucking apocalypse? Well, it didn’t bare thinking about so he pushed it from his mind and just held his dad tighter.

“Ssstiles…listen kid…not your fault…okay? Don’t blame…yourself…”

Panic struck him like lightening at the words. They sounded like…a goodbye.

“No, no don’t you dare! Don’t even think about saying goodbye! You are not leaving me now, not when I’ve just found you! Please! Don’t leave me alone…”

Stiles trailed off, his throat closing up and tears pouring down his face as pain unlike anything he’d ever felt before struck him. His dad just smiled weakly, blood trickling from between his lips as he shakily moved to grasp Stiles’ hand from where it had been pressing on his chest.

“…too late son…it’s okay…please… I’m going to see your mom now…” he broke off with a cough, more blood welling up in his mouth and trailing from his lips. A broken sob escaped Stiles as he felt like his whole world was collapsing around him.

Squeezing his hand as tightly as his weakened state allowed, he felt his dad pull him closer and look him dead in the eye.

“Let me go Stiles…it’s too late. I love you son…and I’ve spent every day…proud…to be your father. You’re a hero…don’t ever…forget that.”

He began trailing off, words getting softer and his grip getting weaker. Stiles knew it was too late now; there was nothing more he could do. There was no other way that this was going to end. His dad was dying.

Bowing his head, he reluctantly stopped putting pressure on the wound, using his now free hand to wipe the blood from his dad’s mouth and stroke over his head. The least he could do now was to comfort his dad and let him know how loved he was.

“I love you too. You’re the best dad anyone could ever have had and, oh God-” he broke off, voice cracking and his heart along with it. Sniffing, he steeled himself; his dad needed him now. He could break down later.

“Say hi to mom for me.”

A weary but true smile spread over his dad’s face at his words, nodding and squeezing his son’s hand with the last of his strength before his grip weakened and the light slowly left his eyes.

And just like that, one of the best men to ever walk the earth died and Stiles became an orphan.

A broken sound left him as he slumped forward, burying his face in the crook between his dad’s neck and shoulder as he sobbed.

He didn’t know how long her stayed like that, rocking back and forth with his dad’s body in his arms. It felt like seconds and decades all at once, as though time didn’t matter anymore. Not without his dad there.

“Stiles?”

The quiet voice came from behind, uncharacteristic tentativeness colouring it. He didn’t respond.

“Stiles…we need to leave. I’m so sorry but they’ll have heard the…the gunshot and who knows what could be coming.”

He still didn’t respond, not even when he felt a large, warm hand being placed on his shoulder.

“Stiles-” Derek was cut off by a loud moan from the twitching, bleeding murderer on the floor in front of them.

The world suddenly snapped back into focus.

Rage the likes of which he didn’t even think it was possible to feel filled him as his head shot up, eyes locking onto the piece of filth that killed the only family he had left. He gently but swiftly led his father down, grabbed his fallen bat and lunged.

Thwack! He hit the groaning, writhing man hard with his bat, revelling in his cries of pain. He brought it down again and again until he was crawling away from him begging and pleading. Stiles came back to himself long enough to hear Derek, Scott and Mellissa calling his name desperately.

Turning to face them, he looked Derek dead in the eye, noting the way the Alpha almost recoiled at something he saw there.

“Get out. Now. And take my dad with you.”

“No. Not without you. We don’t even know where the exit is.”

Ignoring the first part of Scott’s statement but taking in the second, he stalked back over to the whimpering mess on the floor.

“Oh I’m sure we can find out somehow Scott.”

Dropping to one knee and grabbing his hair, Stiles violently tugged his head up and pulled them face to face.

“What do you say hmm? Where’s the exit?”

The man immediately whinnied and pointed to a steel door at the back of the corridor. Dropping his head, listening with satisfaction as it banged against the floor, Stiles moved back over to stand in front of his friends.

“There, now you know where to go. So get out. I’ll be along in a few minutes I swear. Please Derek.”

Despite looking as though he’d rather do anything else, he nodded and moved to where his dad lay on the blood soaked ground before carefully picking him up. He turned and nodded at Scott, signalling him to head to the door.

“It won’t help Stiles…trust me it won’t.” was all he said before he turned and followed the others to the door, opening it and scanning the outside area before exiting, Scott and Mellissa close behind.

When the door had shut once more, the burning fury settled once again over Stiles, turning the world into shades of red as he slowly stalked over to the man, bat in one hand and his dagger in the other.

On the other side of the door, if his friends heard screaming, they carefully avoided each other’s eyes and pretended to ignore the way they increased before fading out in gurgles.

And when the door opened once more and Stiles stepped out, they pointedly averted their gaze.

None of them wished to see their friend drenched in blood.


	38. Chapter 38

A/N HI GUYS!!!! OH MY HOLY GOD I'M SO SORRY FOR DROPPING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH!!! I needed a break from writing and posting so that I could get everything sorted after moving to another country. Not to mention the fact that my job keeps me seeeriously busy. Like, crazy busy. It's fun and everything, but jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, it really takes up my time! So yeah, that's why I haven't posted in a century -.-   
But I'm back now guys! I have the next two chapters written and am determined to keep on top of this fic and not let an eternity pass between each post. Because this is it now guys, we are starting the decent to the end. So if you guys have anything to ask or say, please drop me a line :) I love talking to you all and hearing your thoughts. I'm also open to requests at the moment :D Like, if there's something you'd like to see in the fic then let me know and if I can fit it in, I will :D So yeah, here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy! Toodle pip :)

 

There was a ringing in Stiles' ears that wouldn’t go away. Come to think of it, there was also a mist in front of his eyes that blurred his view and sent him stumbling into things as he made his way back out into the sunlight.  
   
He felt addled and confused, like his brain had been put in a blender and then poured back into his skull. The world didn't feel right and he wasn’t sure why.  
   
All he knew was that he was covered in blood that wasn't his own and his heart was hurting.  
   
Then he saw a body in Derek's arms.  
   
His dad. His dad was dead. Oh God...he was an orphan. His dad was dead.  
   
Dead.  
   
No matter how many times the words went round and round in his head, they never quite seemed to make sense. Surely something like that couldn't happen? It just couldn't.  
   
But as he stepped forward numbly, taking in the bleeding, unmoving body in Derek's arms, he couldn't deny it any longer. Whether it made sense or not, his dad really was dead. And there was nothing he could do about it.  
   
There was also nothing he could do about his friends not meeting his eyes.  
   
Stopping in front of Derek, the only one not looking away, he reached out and stroked his dad's head, the feel of his cooling skin knocking him sick.  
   
“Stiles?”  
   
The low voice came from the wolf in front of him; concern colouring it and suppressed emotions making it rough. Stiles wasn't even sure what he was asking. He wasn't sure Derek knew either.  
   
Looking up, he met Derek's hazel eyes and they both stayed like that for a few moments, more things passing between them than words could convey.  
   
Everything was covered in a thick fog of pure agony and his mind felt disconnected from his body. Stiles knew they had to move and he knew they'd have to find the pulpy zombie wheelie thing again and add an extra body to cover the smell of all the blood, but he just couldn't formulate the words.  
   
"Melissa, can you walk on your own?"  
   
The question came from Derek once again, directed at the woman currently sobbing silently into her son's shoulder. She looked up and shakily nodded, a quiet keening sound escaping her when she saw the body in his arms.  
   
"Good. Scott, come over here and help Stiles. We need to head back to the window we came through and get the wheelie pallet with the bodies on. We'll need it to disguise our scents again. Maybe add another body. Then we find the car and head home."  
   
Scott nodded, kissing his mom on the cheek before heading over to Stiles' side.  
   
"Stiles?"  
   
He didn't acknowledge him. He couldn't. He felt Scott snake an arm under his own and grip his waist, gently but securely supporting him before easing him forward.  
   
It was a good thing Scott was holding him up, as his legs didn't seem to be working properly. He stumbled along, eyes always focused on the bit of his dad he could see around Derek's broad back as he led the way.  
   
The next chunk of time passed in a blur to Stiles, only briefly registering them moving and collecting the pulpy zombie wheelie thing before making their way back to the car. Luckily they didn’t encounter any infected, which was a surprise considering all the blood coating them  
   
Stiles felt himself being guided into the front passenger seat and saw his dad being laid gently in the back, his feet in Scott's lap and his head in Melissa's. She gently stroked his face and pressed a few soft kisses to his skin and Stiles realized why his dad had been so intent on protecting her.  
   
Melissa lifted her head and they looked at each other, heartbreak on both of their faces. She looked almost apprehensive too, as though she was worried about how Stiles would react. He simply nodded once, his gut telling him that if she made his dad happy then it couldn't be bad. He knew she'd never replace his mom in his dad's heart exactly, but maybe there was room for both, just in different ways.  
   
Looking back to the front, Stiles saw a group of infected moving about, obviously drawn by the smell of all the blood but not sure exactly where it was coming from. Still, they were moving towards them and Derek needed to get them out of there swiftly.  
   
He saw the Alpha grimace out of the corner of his eye and put his foot on the pedal, urging the car forward and down the road they came. They passed a few of the zombies and Stiles had the strongest urge to just open the car door, jump out and destroy them all. Or let them destroy him. He wasn't too bothered either way.  
   
A warm hand settled over his clenched fist. Stiles looked up at the tired face questioningly.  
   
“No.”  
   
This was the only response he got but strangely enough, it said everything there was that needed to be said. He saw in Derek's eyes and heard in his voice the pain that the idea of losing Stiles brought.  
   
He couldn't cause the man anymore pain. He unclenched his fist and let Derek's hand slip into it, their fingers making space for each other and fitting together like they were always meant to be there.  
   
They drove passed the infected, swerving to avoid their snapping jaws and clutching hands. Stiles couldn't help but let himself wonder who those monsters used to be. Was that someone's dad? Someone cherished and loved? Someone who was always there for their child and taught them how to be a good person?  Had that child been forced to watch their father die?  
   
The hand in his tightened its grip for a moment and they made it clear of the infected, beginning the drive through the decimated town once again and back to the Hale house.  
   
Then he'd have to bury his dad.  
   
The thought sent more dread through him than anything he'd encountered so far.  
   
Stiles lent his head against the window and watched what was left of the world pass by in a daze, time moving without him even realizing. He was vaguely aware of whispering but he couldn’t make it out. And frankly, he just didn’t have the will to even try.  
   
The carnage of the Hale House exterior was soon upon them, the jeep slowing to a stop. Stiles felt the warm hand slip out of his and he let it go, the sound of a door opening and shutting reaching his ears.  
   
Still, he didn't move. He couldn't. It was like he was glued to the seat and any movement felt like he was stuck in treacle, surrounding him on all sides and forcing its way down his throat.  
   
His door opened and Stiles felt the familiar, warm presence that always brought with it a wave of comfort and usually made his heart leap. But today it was still and dead. Despite that, Derek's presence was still like a candle in a pitch black room and he clung to the light he brought with a fierce passion, trying to use it as a beacon, a way out of the crushing black he was stuck in.  
   
But then a sudden and terrible thought struck him like lightning. What if he lost him? What would he do  
   
“Come on Stiles, let's get you inside.”  
   
The thought wouldn’t stop spinning through his mind, tearing through it like fire through a dry forest and as Derek reached out to touch his arm, Stiles couldn't help but jerk away from it. His head shot up just in time to see the look of pain and sadness flash over Derek's face before it was shut down. The Alpha just nodded and moved out of the way, Stiles stumbling out of the car on his own and moving to the back seat.  
   
He stood and stared through the window, unable to bring himself to open the door just yet. He could see the shape of his dad, nothing more than a body now, through the window and even that sent pain shooting through him.  
   
From the corner of his eye, he saw Derek move and slowly pull open the door, reaching in as though to get his dad out of the car.  
   
“No!”  
   
Stiles was surprised at the sound of his voice crying out, raw and scratchy. Derek turned and stared at him with sadness on his face as his eyes met Stiles’ blood shot and empty ones.  
   
“Stiles…”  
   
“No. No…I need to do this myself. I have to.”  
   
Derek nodded and reluctantly moved aside, Stiles quickly pushing past and standing in front of the door, eyes fixed on his dad's body taking up the back seat of his wife's beloved jeep.  
   
He reached in numbly and got a hold of his dad, hefting him into his arms, weak legs shaking slightly under the weight. He staggered for a few steps, the weight baring down on him both mentally and physically as he began moving towards the house.  
   
He barely made it more than a few feet before his legs began to buckle, constant lack of food, blood loss and exhaustion taking its toll on him.  
   
Stiles landed on his knees with a cut of sob, pulling his dad close to his chest to protect him. He bowed his head over the body, buried his head in his dad's neck and let out a muffled howl of anguish, pain and frustration.  
   
He couldn't keep him alive and now he couldn't even fucking carry him without falling over. He couldn't even give his dad's body the respect it deserved.  
   
The despair was crashing over him like a wave, dragging him under when he felt a hand close on his shoulder and someone kneel down next to him.  
   
“It's okay Stiles. It'll be okay. Let me help.”  
   
Stiles gasped and choked on the air he desperately tried to pull into his lungs and his brain didn't seem to be filtering words or thoughts properly. He felt himself being pulled backwards onto a broad, warm chest and arms settle around him, rocking him gently.  
   
They stayed like that for a few moments, Stiles trying to simply breathe, staving of the beginnings of what would most certainly be the mother of all panic attacks. He felt Derek grow restless behind him though and knew that the Alpha wasn't comfortable with them being so exposed and distracted. Yes they had all sorts of things to alert them of any infected, but it was a deep-rooted fear that wouldn't go away no matter what they had in place. Stiles also shared this fear, but it was currently buried under the fog of despair filling his mind.  
   
“Come on Stiles, we need to move. We need to get inside where it's safe. Your dad wouldn't want you risking your life out here. Please Stiles, let me help.”  
   
He knew he shouldn't, but he just couldn't help struggling against the arm that came to lift his dad's body away from him. He snarled through his teeth, the arms pausing momentarily before continuing regardless, taking his dad out of his grip.  
   
Stiles was left gasping and clawing at thin air. He probably looked like a mad man, but he really didn't give a shit. All that was going through his mind was that he was losing what little he had left of his father.  
   
After a few moments, a pair of muscular arms appeared in his line of site and he felt them settle, warm and secure around his shoulders and under his knees. He dimly registered that he was being carried like a fucking swooning maiden from a romance novel, but he couldn't muster the energy to do anything about it. Instead, he slumped boneless into the warmth of the strong chest he was being held against, knowing immediately who it was that was carrying him, and simply allowed the grief to run its course.  
   
Eventually, Stiles began to emerge from the pool of pain and guilt he'd been submerged in and registered the fact that he was sat at the kitchen table in the tunnels under the Hale house, nursing a steaming mug of hot chocolate. It even had six marshmallows in it, just the way he liked it. This made him smile ever so slightly, knowing it was Scott who had made it for him, no one else knowing the exact way he liked his hot chocolate.  
   
They'd spent many a night together, huddled in a blanket and pillow fort in one of their rooms, talking or comforting each other, such as after Stiles' mom died and Scott's dad left. They were always each other’s rocks. Sure things had changed in the last few years and their friendship had been put to the test, but it was the little things like a simple mug of hot chocolate, which brought with it so much comfort, that proved how much they cared about each other.  
   
Stiles held the hot mug tightly in his hands, the sensation keeping him grounded in between his sips. He knew the whole pack was surrounding him and he appreciated it, he honestly did. He just couldn't talk to them or even acknowledge that they were there. Eventually, he heard someone speak and one by one the Pack began to leave, each of them touching him in some way as they passed.  
   
He revealed in their warmth and was truly grateful for their comfort, but he just didn't have the energy or will power to say thank you.  
   
No, the only thing he needed to do was see his dad.  
   
Pushing his chair out suddenly, he stood up shakily staggered towards the door, Derek appearing like magic seconds later with a steadying hand on his back.  
   
“Where do you think you're going?” the Alpha asked, checking him over for the millionth time.  
   
“I need to see my dad Derek. I need to see him!” he choked out, hating the look that came over the face in front of him.  
   
“Stiles...”  
   
“No! No, you shut up and listen to me! I need to see him! I have to!”  
   
Stiles didn’t want to shout at Derek, but the man needed to understand just how important it was for him to see his dad.  
   
“Please Derek. I have to.”  
   
Sadness and understanding clear in his eyes, Derek finally nodded and he loosened his grip on the shaking boy in front of him. Because that was all he was at that moment, a scared, lost little boy.  
   
“I'll take you.”  
   
Nodding his head in thanks and relief, Stiles grasped Derek's hand tight, stumbling along next to him as they made their way out of the kitchen and through the tunnels, heading towards and stopping in front of a closed door at the very back.  
   
“Are you sure you want to do this Stiles?” Derek asked, concern clear in his voice.  
   
Stiles scoffed bitterly.  
   
“This isn't the first time I've seen the body of someone I love you know.”  
   
“Trust me,” came Derek's reply, voice softer and more vulnerable sounding than he'd heard from the man in a very long time, “no matter how many you see, it never gets any easier.”  
   
Stiles looked at Derek properly for the first time since they'd come back from the hospital, taking in his tired and deeply sad eyes. He knew he had no right to lash out at the man, someone who had lost even more than Stiles had and somehow managed to survive it. He couldn't imagine the pain Derek must have felt and if he could keep going, then Stiles could. It just didn't feel like it yet.  
   
Sties squeezed Derek's hand in apology, dipping his head slightly in shame. A warm hand cupped his cheek, sliding under his chin and gently lifting his head up to meet Derek's gaze. The man slowly moved forward, grip gentle as though to allow Stiles to move away whenever he wanted. As if he'd ever want that. He pressed his lips to Stiles' cheeks, kissing away his tears before moving to his lips, giving him a kiss so gentle and full of emotion that it could have brought him to his knees.  
   
Far too soon, Derek pulled back, resting his forehead against Stiles' with his hand still curled gently around the back of his head.  
   
“If you want me to come in with you, I will. If not, I'll be right out here waiting for you, and you just need to call and I'll be there. I promise you I will be there for all of this. You aren't alone.”  
   
A chocked off sob escaped Stiles at his words and he buried his face in Derek's neck, inhaling his scent and the comfort it brought, wishing he could stay there and never face the world ever again. But he had to, so he pressed a kiss there before stepping back, nodding at Derek instead of speaking, not trusting his voice. He then turned, opened the door and stepped inside.


	39. Chapter 39

A/N HEY MY LOVES!!! I promised I wouldn't leave you hanging for long this time :D So here we are with more Stilinski Family Feels. Enjoy and toodle pip :D 

 

 

As soon as the door shut behind him, the whole room seemed to drop in temperature, as though the earth had been covered in ice and all hope of sun and warmth was gone. One naked light bulb was the only light source in the room and it cast a cold glow, sending eerie shadows all around the room. God his dad deserved so much better than this.

And there it was. The reason he was here. Stiles hadn't been able to bring himself to look at the body led on the low table at the back of the room, but he knew he had to. Taking a deep breath he finally cast his eyes over the only remaining part of his dad that he had left.

He looked down at the person he called his father for all of his 20 years. The person who loved him and cared for him no matter what. The person who managed to do that all alone after losing his wife to cancer. The person who had been there through everything.

Stiles made a wining sound in the back of his throat as his knees went weak, legs suddenly unable to support him any further. He half fell, half lunged towards the table and fell to his knees beside it.

It suddenly hit him that he'd never talk to his father ever again.

Stiles remembered the same sickly realization he came to years ago, as he was brought in to say his final goodbyes to his mom's body. He hadn't wanted to be there, thinking that everything he needed to say had been said as she was dying, but also thinking deep down, that if he just didn't look at the body, didn’t acknowledge its existence, then he could keep pretending that his mother wasn't dead. That she was just tired and sleeping in her room.

Despite never saying it aloud, his dad seemed to know anyway and he gently steered Stiles to the room and convinced him to come in with him. He'd said that he needed Stiles to help him say goodbye, needed him to keep him together and that he couldn't do it without his son.

Once Stiles was older, he realized that his dad had known all along what he'd been trying to do, and he knew that if he told his son he needed him, then Stiles would do it no matter what. His dad always knew him so well.

They'd been as close as could be after that. They were all either of them had left. Then his dad hit a rough patch a few months after her death, once everything has calmed down and the crushing reality of life without his wife really sunk in. That was when the drinking started. Stiles tried to get him to stop or at least ease up a little, but it was no good. Every night he would come home from work, often after pulling a double shift, and he'd drink himself into a stupor.

That was the year Stiles learnt to take care of himself. And to take care of his dad as well. He learnt to cook healthy meals and keep the house clean and make sure his dad never choked on his own vomit. It was a tough few months for sure, but he managed. He was 13 years old.

Then came the night when everything changed.

His dad was home late, seriously late and Stiles was sat upstairs in his room working himself up into a frenzy of panic. 'What ifs' kept running round and round in his head, images of his only parent killed by some idiot criminal, or in a terrible car crash, or in a dreadful accident. On and on it went; it was driving him mad!

When his dad finally made it in, he was roaring drunk. And he wasn't alone.

Stiles heard a giggle; a very female giggle and he suddenly saw red. He ran down the stairs to see his father kissing some woman he'd obviously picked up at whatever bar he'd gone to and this all consuming rage spread through him.

It all got a bit blurry after that, but he remembers well how he'd screamed at the woman to get out of his house, out of his mothers house. She was either too pissed or too stupid to take him seriously at first, but after he'd thrown her ridiculous heels out of the door, her bag following soon after, she finally got the hint and left.

The shouting match Stiles had with his dad after that was the worst they'd ever engaged in. Every hurtful thing they'd kept locked up since his mom got sick all came flying out like venom.

It all came screeching to a halt however, when his dad blamed him for making his mom so tired she couldn't fight the cancer and flung his arm out as he turned away, smacking Stiles hard across his face.

The silence that had followed was deafening, Stiles clutching his stinging face and tasting blood on his tongue as his dad just stared, face grey with shock and horror at what he'd done.

His dad had cried after that. Just broken down on the floor and wept. He'd begged and pleaded with Stiles, swearing that it had been an accident. To this day, Stiles still isn't sure whether it was or not.

The Sheriff had cried for hours, unable to look at his son for fear of seeing the rapidly darkening bruises and cut lip. Stiles eventually took pity on the man and dropped to the floor next to him, wrapping him in his little 13 year old arms. They stayed like that most of the night, his dad muttering things like “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry” and “I just miss her so much” over and over again.

Eventually he fell asleep and Stiles left him lent against the wall as he collected a couple of pillows and the throw from the couch. He set up the pillows and lowered his dad down, covering him over so he wouldn't get cold before getting a large glass of water from the kitchen and a packet of paracetamol, leaving them nearby.

Then Stiles climbed the stairs to his bedroom, collapsed onto his bed and cried into his pillow until his alarm went off for school.

As he emerged from his memories, Stiles became aware of tears dripping down his face once more. God he hated crying. He'd never been one to let others know how he was really feeling, always preferring to cover it up with a goofy smile and a sarcastic quip. So to have all that control torn away from him, his facade being washed away by salty tears, was something he couldn't stand in the slightest. Yet he had no choice, this pain just couldn't be contained or covered up.

Stiles looked at his dad's still face, trying to ignore the blood that had begun to stain the blanket Derek must have placed over him.

“Dad...” he choked, voice thick and scratchy from tears and screaming.

“Dad please...don't leave me. I can't do this without you. Please don't make me lose you too...”

But it was too late. His dad had all ready left him. And nothing he did would bring him back.

Another broken sob escaped him as Stiles climbed carefully onto the table and curled up next to his dad, burying his face in the space between his neck and shoulder, one arm slung securely over his chest. 

He cried and held on tight to the body of the man who raised him, the body of the man he has looked up to all his life. The man who he always will look up to. Stiles imagined him sitting up and wrapping his arms around him, reassuring him and promising him that it had all been a huge mistake. God he wanted that more than anything.

Stiles lost himself in the fantasy as he shook and cried until finally, exhaustion pulled him under into blissful, welcome darkness.

He came back to himself after an unknowable length of time. All he knew was that he was warm, his head was in someone’s lap and strong fingers were stroking through his hair soothingly. He was also aware that his feet were in another persons lap and he had many hands spread out along his body, some part of him being touched constantly. He opened his eyes a crack and saw his Pack, his beautiful Pack all huddled around him on beanbags and piles of pillows, wrapped up in blankets.

Stiles had seen this once before and had been convinced to participate in it, affectionately dubbing it a Puppy Pile. Whilst they were a generally tactile bunch anyway, Puppy Piles were something totally different. They were used to aid healing and to give comfort, to let the person or people affected know that they are never alone; they always have their Pack.

His shredded heart warmed a little at their actions, a lump sticking in his throat as his eyes stung. Whilst he may have lost the last member of his blood family, he still had his Pack. They couldn't replace what he'd lost, no more than his dad could have replaced the loss of the Pack should the situation have been reversed, but that wasn't the point. Pack was something different and he was beyond lucky and grateful to be part of one. 

And as much as Stiles wanted to shy away from everyone and lock himself a in a titanium shell where he couldn't get close to people and therefore, couldn't get hurt, he just couldn't bare to push them away. He needed them. God he needed them so much.

A whine escaped him and Derek was alerted to the fact that Stiles was awake. Awake and hurting. He began to wriggle underneath Stiles, and in any other situation, there would have been a very embarrassing outcome, until he was lying on his back along the length of the mattress they were on, with Stiles pulled on top of him, his head resting on Derek's chest and tucked under his chin.

He sank into the embrace with what he refused to call a whine, and felt Derek’s broad arms tighten around his back, one hand moving up to cup the back of his neck, a thumb gently stroking over the skin comfortingly. 

Stiles gripped Derek’s shirt tight and squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. He felt the whole pack shuffle closer around them both until they surrounded the mattress. Hands were touching the both of them and Stiles felt someone lean their head on his leg, hand gripping his ankle. He felt warm and safe, comfort flowing between them all.

Stiles sank into the sensation and just shut down. Just for now he would stop thinking, stop feeling. He shrugged off everything that wasn’t this warmth, this closeness. He would deal with the world later. But for now, he would have this.


	40. Chapter 40

A/N Heya my pretties!! I hope you're all doing well :) Bloody Nora it's been busy at my end! Been in charge at work and it doesn't half take up some time! Especially when you have to have a meeting with the misogynistic stockholders -.- As I was giving my report, one of them interrupted me and said, I shit you not, that he didn't want to hear it from "this woman" and to send my colleague in. So I'm sure you can imagine my face. So I just turned to him with what has been accurately described as my 'You gunna die' smile and informed him that I'm in charge of this area so if he wants an accurate report he should continue letting me talk. If he wasn't then by all means, send the other guy in. Then just stared him down until he let me carry on :p twat. Good thing I had my badass red dress and lippy on! Always put me in the mood for kicking arse! 

Sorry, tangent over :p anyway, here's the newest chapter my loves, there's one more to go now before we begin our decent...*evil, ominous grin* So I hope you enjoy this and as always, thank you for your wonderful comments, I hope to hear more from you as it seriously just makes me so happy ^__^ Toodle pip :)

 

Stiles awoke to the tantalizing smell of bacon sizzling in a pan and the comforting sounds of Pack milling around in the tunnels and common room. Muffled snatches of conversation, the clattering of cutlery and the low growl of someone getting annoyed at someone else drifted into the room. All were familiar. All were safe.

He was comfortable and warm, his tiredness nearly pulling him down into sleep again. Stiles loved mornings like this, mornings that he wanted to last forever.

Then he remembered.

There isn't much on this earth that is crueler than the morning after you lose someone. Because for a few blissful moments, you don't realize that you have. For a few moments, you think everything is as it was, as it should be. You think they're still alive.

Then it hits you. And it hits you hard. God that feeling. There aren't words for it and it's almost impossible to describe the sensation to those who haven't experienced it. 

The closest description would be that it was like you were floating out at sea, the sun warming your body as you’re peacefully suspended by gently moving water. Then the other shoe drops and it's like having a ton of bricks dropped on you, pushing you under before you could even take a breath and holding you there without mercy.

That realization, when you are forced to face the fact that not everything is as it should be because they weren't there, was second only to actually losing them in the first place.

Stiles dropped back down onto the mattress, rubbing a hand over his face. It felt swollen from all the crying and his head pounded like there were a hundred pissed off drummers taking residence there.

He stayed that way, reclined on the mattress, arm slung over his eyes as he simply tried to breath and work up the motivation to face the day. All he wanted to do was find a deep, dark hole and curl up in it until all this shit was over. Or the world ended. Either or.

But then again, he could smell bacon and coffee. Maybe curling up in a deep, dark hole could wait till after breakfast.

Stiles heaved himself into a sitting position once more before hauling his ass up from the mattress on the floor with a groan of pain. Once vertical, he glanced down at his aching body and was hit by a tidal wave of nausea at the site of the blood covering his clothes.

He reacted without thinking, tearing his t-shirt off and using it to scrub the dried bits of blood stuck to his skin. He needed a shower. The urge to scrub himself raw with bleach was overpowering, the need to do something, anything, to purge the dirty, guilty pain and self loathing that was filling him. He felt like Gerard, thick black liquid coursing through his body, forcing its way up his throat.

“Stiles?” came a tentative voice.

He turned to look at Lydia as she came slowly into the room, eyes fixed on his body, making a strong twinge of self consciousness flare up.

“What're you looking at?” he mumbled, folding his arms across his chest to block some of her view.

She stepped forward until she was right in front of him, reaching out to touch his shoulders, arms and face.

“Oh Stiles, you're so thin...and that looks dreadful. I guess I, well, I guess I forgot that you've been through more than all of us.”

She moved her hand from where it had been ghosting over the still healing wound in his side and pulled him into a hug, his long arms and lanky frame all but engulfing her tiny stature.

“I'm so sorry Stiles...” she whispered, head buried in his neck. He hugged her back fiercely, needing the human contact. It helped to chase away some of the black liquid, pushing it back down his throat and letting him breathe.

“My dad...where-”

“Derek is with him. He didn't think you'd want him to be alone.”

Tears welled up in his eyes immediately, a tidal wave of emotions hitting him. Derek had known. Derek had known and understood and done what Stiles was unable to at the time. And words were not enough to express how much that meant to him.

Lydia seemed to know that he couldn't formulate a response to that, so she simply pulled away slightly after pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Come on you, time to put some meat on those bones!” she said, her usual bossy and imperious tone back in place as she turned around, flipping her admittedly less than luxurious hair over her shoulder and strutting back out of the door.

Stiles let a small smile grace his features, his love for her still as fierce as it had always been, just in a different way. After he gave up his forever hopeless crush on her, he ended up finding himself with a friend unlike any he'd ever had. Not that he really had anyone outside of the Pack to compare her too, but still. 

She was fiercely loyal and eternally protective of those she deemed worthy of her friendship and once she had claimed you as her own, you were there forever. It was amazing having someone just as smart as him to talk to and he knew he would do anything for her, just as she would for him.

Stiles had quite a few scars to prove that too, the most prominent of which was left by an arrow wound he took to the back, up on his left shoulder. Hunters had come to Beacon Hills, hunters that didn't follow the code and had been led to the town by the promise of exterminating a pack of werewolves, a “disgrace of a hunter”, a Banshee and a “filthy human traitor”. 

They hadn't counted on the Pack of abominations being better and stronger than them, and boy were they sore losers.

The Pack had them cornered, defeated and it would have been easy to destroy them completely. It just showed how much Derek had matured as an Alpha that he offered them a deal that would let them live. If they left Beacon Hills and never came back, if they warned off any other idiot hunter who thought they could take down the Hale Pack, then they could live.

The leader reluctantly agreed, not wanting to risk the lives of his remaining hunters, as Derek and Erica had each been forced to kill the two hunters that were after them or die themselves.

And so the deal was struck but as they turned to leave, one of the hunters decided they weren't happy with it. They lifted their crossbow, aimed at the closest person and shot an arrow straight at the back of Lydia's head.

God knows how, but Stiles was in just the right place at just the right time and saw it happen out of the corner of his eye, his every sense on fire, screaming to him that something was wrong. The wolves turned too but wouldn't have a chance of saving her, as they were further ahead than Stiles and Lydia. So for Stiles, there was only one choice, one he made instantly and without a moments hesitation.

He roughly grabbed Lydia, curled his body around hers and took the arrow in the back of his shoulder.

All hell broke lose as Stiles dropped to the ground, blood pouring from where the arrow was embedded deep in his flesh. Lydia just kept saying his name along with the usual phrases of “stay awake! Don't close your eyes! Come on Stiles!” as Derek tore into the one who shot him with a single-minded ferocity. 

The leader shouted at his hunters to retreat immediately and the wolves let them run, far more worried about the brave idiot lying on the forest floor as a banshee cradled his head and prayed she wouldn't have to scream.

Stiles didn't remember what happened after because he promptly passed out, much to the desperate panic of the Pack. He woke up a day later in the hospital to the story that a hunting trip went wrong and he'd been shot by accident.

Stiles absently reached over his shoulder and rubbed the spot where he knew the scar was, knowing that he'd do it a hundred times with no regrets. He was covered in scars, all gained for the Pack and he was proud of every single one. Even when strangers stared when they saw them, like the time the Pack went down to the beach on a road trip. They were obviously conducting strange and tragic stories in their heads that were nowhere near strange or tragic enough for the truth and making the whole Pack all but growl every time.

A few years ago that would have made him scurry out of public view; shame and self-consciousness making him want to hide. But once you've survived a mad hunter's torture without cracking, or faced down a rabid Alpha Pack, or any of the other mad and brave things he'd done, facing down a group of curious and sometimes downright rude human beings on the beach seemed like nothing. So he'd stood up straighter, smiled at the curious ones and stared down the rude ones and carried on, having one of the best days he'd ever had.

The memory made a small smile creep on his face, a much needed reminder that the world hadn't always been this hell and even if he'd lost something that hurt more than words could express, something that left a hole nothing would ever be able to fill, he was still surrounded by people who loved him more than anything, and who he loved back. He wasn't totally alone.

“Stiles!”

He looked up as Lydia poked her head around the door once again, summoning him with a glare.

“I'm coming I'm coming,” he muttered, rolling his eyes at her but following nonetheless.

They walked side by side up the tunnel and into the common room come dinning room come kitchen, the smell of bacon hitting him and making his mouth water. He hadn't had bacon in months and good God on high, it was sent from heaven, he was sure of it.

As Stiles stepped further into the room he saw the whole Pack plus Melissa either sat at the table or making coffee with a pan on one of the camp stoves as Scott was diligently, almost reverently frying bacon in a pan on the other.

Wait, hang on a minute.

“Okay, what the hell? Where did you get that bacon from?” he asked incredulously, the fact that they were in the middle of the apocalypse and couldn't exactly nip round to the local supermarket only just hitting him.

Every head turned to stare at him, Scott letting out a surprised noise and Stiles was once again left questioning how on earth these guys survived all the stuff they had if a human could sneak up on them without their 'superior senses' alerting them. Seriously, it was embarrassing.

Melissa shook her head at Scott as well, obviously thinking the same thing Stiles had before she turned to him with a small, tired smile.

“When I raided the kitchens I found quite a few supplies there that hadn't gone off. There were three vacuum packs of bacon in the freezer, which has kept itself pretty decently cold. It might actually still be hooked up to the independent generator now that I think about it. There was also plenty of canned stuff and dried things like cereal and fruit. So I grabbed as much as I could. Those men took a bit when they captured us but we still have a good amount of stuff.”

And just like that he was reminded of the real reason his dad was in that hospital in the first place.

His expression must have changed because he saw a flicker of something in her eyes before she stepped away and moved back over to making the coffee, prompting the rest of them to stop staring and carry on what they were doing. Though they did keep shooting 'subtle' glances his way when they thought he wasn’t watching.

Stiles felt Lydia's small hand slip into his and lead him to the table, pushing him into the empty seat next to Isaac before swaning off towards the coffee pot, getting a cup and bringing it over.

“It'll have to be black I'm afraid and without your usual mountain of sugar, but it's better than nothing.”

He nodded and accepted the mug gratefully, the warmth between his hands feeling lovely and chasing away some of the chill that had descended since Melissa had started talking. He took a sip and nearly moaned in delight. God he'd missed coffee.

Everyone around the table smiled at his reaction and nodded in agreement. You never realize just how much you love and need coffee until you’re forced to go without it.

“Here, eat up. Go slowly because you won't have had something so heavy or filling in a while and I don't want you getting sick. But don't even think about leaving it.”

Stiles nodded at Lydia's bossing and fussing, letting her put the plate of bacon and cutlery in front of him, pocking him until he picked them up.

“Thanks” he murmured, cutting up a small piece of bacon and putting it in his mouth.

Oh God. Oh sweet holy Lord on high. Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick.

Stiles dug into the bacon with vigor, Lydia making a noise next to him. He slowed down a bit before she could start moaning, but it just tasted too good! And he knew no matter how quick he ate; his body wouldn't throw it up out of sheer desire to keep hold of it!

His plate was finished far too soon and he was once again left wishing that he had the power to duplicate things. As much as he wanted more, he knew that everyone had let him have a larger plate than any of them would get and it wasn't fair to deprive them of any more. Instead, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, earning him a disapproving grimace off Lydia, and gulped down the rest of his coffee before it got cold.

Stiles looked up and met the eyes of Isaac, who was beaming at him, as though the simple fact of Stiles enjoying his breakfast made him the happiest little wolfy on earth. He just couldn't resist reaching out and ruffling his curls.

The rest of the Pack took up whatever empty seat or space they could find and ate their own breakfast. It wasn't until Melissa took the seat opposite him that the coldness returned to him once more. He tried to fight it, he really did, but one thought just wouldn’t leave his mind.

It was her fault.

Logically he knew his grieving mind was looking for someone to blame, someone other than just himself, but Stiles also knew that although she didn't mean to get them kidnapped, it was her stupid plan that landed his dad there in the first place. If she'd just listened to the Pack, to his dad, then he wouldn’t have had to go after her. He wouldn’t have been in that situation. He wouldn’t be dead.

Stiles pushed his chair out with slightly more force than necessary, getting to his feet and muttering a thank you for his breakfast. Lydia fixed a concerned expression on him and he gave her a small, tight smile in return that appeared and disappeared on his face in a matter of seconds.

She was obviously worried, and the rest of the table was once again 'subtly' staring at him. He wanted to reassure them, but Melissa was looking at him with the kind of concern only a mother could achieve. And right now, he just couldn’t deal with that.

Grabbing the extra plate of food and mug of coffee that had been made for Derek, Stiles left the room as swiftly as he could without actually running. Even without werewolf hearing, he could easily make out the mutterings that he left in his wake.

Stiles quickly found himself outside of the room that held arguably the two most important people in his life. One breathing, one not. Once again his heart clenched painfully and he opened the door quickly, balancing Derek's breakfast as he stepped inside.

“Stiles?”

Derek's head rose from where it had been resting in his hands, looking like the weight of the world was atop his shoulders. He was sat in a chair close to where his dad lay, watching over him. 

It made Stiles' aching heart warm knowing that Derek cared enough to sit with his dad's body whilst he was unable too. The fact that he even thought that Stiles would hate his dad left alone was amazing, but to stand vigil himself really touched him.

Realizing Derek had spoke, he stepped closer and held out the plate and mug.

“Err, I thought I'd bring you some breakfast. You must be hungry.”

Derek nodded gratefully and took the offered items, immediately gulping down a large portion of the coffee before setting it on the floor and tucking into the bacon.

“Shame there's no brown sauce...” came the regretful mutter from the Alpha.

“What! Oh my God Derek, you can't be serious! Everyone knows that red sauce always goes with bacon!”

“Yeah, if you're a barbarian...”

“Says mister I scorn cutlery and eat with my hands!”

“Says mister I forgot to actually bring cutlery, forcing someone to eat with their hands.”

“Ah. Fair enough.”

They looked at each other and started laughing. Well, Stiles laughed, Derek did his usual chuckle, the one Stiles loved because it showed off the Alpha's bunny teeth. A fact he has never told him and never, ever will. He likes his internal organs to stay internal thank you very much.

Silence fell once again, but a comfortable one at that. It was actually rather difficult to pinpoint when exactly their awkward silences became comfortable and even enjoyable, neither having to put on any pretenses with the other. It was a special thing to find somebody that allows you to be yourself, totally and utterly, but also gives you something you never had before. 

For Derek, this was safety and trust, something he'd lacked ever since a manipulating psychopath destroyed his whole world. He’d never gotten over the guilt of it and had vowed never to trust another person again. He was always on high alert, the walls he’d built around him high and impenetrable as he refused to get close to anyone. 

Then a loud mouthed, sarcastic kid snuck his way into Derek’s life, eventually managing to slip behind those walls and make a home for himself inside his heart. And Derek trusted once more. 

It also gave him happiness and a reason to talk more, to smile more. Stiles had built his world back up out of the ashes and now Derek had him and a Pack once more.

For Stiles, it was the sense of belonging. He'd always been an outcast, only Scott had been wiling to put up with him throughout their childhoods and even then his constant chatter and strangeness could get up Scott's nose. It got worse when all the werewolf business started and Stiles had never felt so out of place, so unwanted in his entire life. He was lonely. Everyone had someone except him and even though he hid behind his usual grin and sarcasm, the weight of everything was becoming too much to bare, his legs buckling under the strain of dealing with everything alone. 

Then things changed. He connected with someone on a level that he never thought possible. He and Derek were two jagged, broken jigsaw pieces that had never fitted properly anywhere, but somehow, they fitted each other. They made each other whole. Together, they built up each other and a Pack, and Stiles finally had a place where he belonged. 

He also learnt the value of silence and that he didn't need to talk and smile and make sarcastic quips to cover up his feelings anymore. Stiles could be himself no matter what that entailed. 

“Thank you...” Stiles mumbled, pulling himself from his thoughts and avoiding looking at either Derek or his dad.

The Alpha put his plate and mug on the floor, fixing his gaze on his hands.

“You don't have to thank me Stiles. I...well, I know what it's like. Not just to lose someone I mean, but that almost irrational fear of them being alone somewhere. It might seem strange to some, especially those who haven't lost someone close to them, but it just takes over you until all you can think about is them being on their own or being afraid. I knew you'd be sat here if you could so I thought I'd hold the fort until you were able to.”

With a lump in his throat and more tears in his eyes, Stiles stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Derek from behind, hands resting above his heart and head buried into his neck.

Neither moved or said anything for a long time, each simply taking comfort in the other as they stood their vigil together. Stiles knew that he would have to bury his dad soon, knew he'd have to let him go. But right now he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about anything at all. 

So he stayed where he was, listening to their combined breaths and feeling Derek's heart, alive and beating strong beneath his hands.


	41. Chapter 41

A/N Hello again my lovelies :D How are you all?? Life ran away with me once again and this got pushed to the wayside. But luckily today was super quiet at work so I sort of maybe sneakily wrote this instead xD I hope it's okay :) There's a short chapter to come after it that I'm just finishing off now and will post soon. Then after that we begin our end game...*super mega evil ominous grin* I hope you are all well and that you enjoy this. Please feel free to drop me a line with what you think, good or bad, and if there's anything else you'd like to see in the story :) Toodle pip :)

 

Stiles wasn't sure how long he and Derek had been sat in the room for. It felt like years but could have been no more than one or two hours. Time seemed to pass differently for them, as they sat as close to each other as they could, Derek's huge hand wrapped around Stiles' wrist as he felt for his pulse and Stiles' hand pressed over Derek's heart to feel it beat.

They told each other things, memories and stories that they hadn't spoken about to anyone. Stiles told him about his mom; how much he missed her every single day, how they always used to go for picnics in the preserve, how he was alone with her when she died. He even told him how she taught him to channel his energy into music. The latter surprised Derek greatly, but a fond look came over his face when Stiles admitted it was the drums, one of the most energy draining instruments there was. He told him about his dads drinking, even about the slap. He told him about his panic attacks and the dark moods he often slipped into but tried to hide in the first few years after he was dragged into the supernatural world, brought on by his loneliness, guilt and crushing feelings of uselessness.

Derek opened up in a way that Stiles had never seen before. He told him how he missed his family every day too, and how the guilt of it still had a hold on him like a lead weight around his neck, cutting off his air until he was left gasping for breath. He told him about his life in New York, stories of him and his older sister. He told him how every Saturday, no matter what, they would go to their favourite diner and have pancakes. He told him how he couldn't look her in the eye for months, afraid to see the utter agony she tried to hide, afraid she'd see the crushing guilt that he tried to hide and figure out what happened. He told him that he stopped talking for months, unable to escape the paralytic grip of his guilt and despair.

Once their words ran out, neither tried to console the other or offer useless statements of “it wasn't your fault” or “let it go” because both of them had heard it before countless times and knew it didn't help. So they just stayed there, feeling each others hearts beat and reveling in feeling so connected that they couldn't tell where Stiles ended and Derek began.

They stayed like that until they heard knocking at the door before it was gently opened. Isaac was revealed in the doorway, Chris and Boyd behind him holding what looked like a large sheet of burlap sack. Neither Stiles or Derek moved from their position and Isaac just smiled and said “took you long enough”.

A small smile flitted across Stiles' face at Isaac's words and he gave a small nod. It really had taken them long enough.

“Stiles?” came Chris's voice, prompting him to look at the hunter.

“We're ready to move him now. I've dug a grave at the back of the house, next to where the flower patch was. There's not much left of it now of course, but it was the nicest looking and safest spot to bury him. Are you ready?”

A chill crept over him once more, his breathing speeding up at the thought of putting his father in the ground with no coffin, no flowers, no service and no headstone. Leaving him to decay in the ground like fucking compost.

“It's okay Stiles.”

It's funny how one sentence whispered into his ear by the werewolf next to him could stave off his panic. Well, it was probably not all that funny actually.

Breathing deeply he pushed those thoughts from his mind. There was no other option. If they built any kind of pier then they'd attract every single zombie in Beacon Hills and there was obviously no way of building a coffin. So Stiles would have to make the best of what they did have. His dad wouldn't care now anyway, he was with his wife again. Stiles hoped they were happy now.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah Chris...I'm ready.”

They entered the room and moved over to his dad's body, Boyd and Christ lifting him up so Isaac could slip the burlap sheet underneath him, before placing him back down and gently wrapping his body in it.

“Wait!”

Just before the cloth covered his dad's face, Stiles called out and got to his feet, moving over to the table.

“Just a second.”

He looked down at the person who had loved and cared for him his whole life, wishing more than anything on this earth that he would just open his eyes, wrap Stiles up in his arms and never let go. But he couldn't, his dad was gone and this shell was all that remained.

Leaning forward, Stiles pressed a kiss to his dad's head.

“It's okay dad, I know you didn't want to leave. So I want you to know it's okay. I'll be fine. You go be with mom and be happy together, I know you'll keep an eye on me. I love you so much dad. Give mom a hug and kiss for me.”

Slowly pulling away and wiping his eyes on his sleeve, he covered his dads face, finally ready to let him go.

Stiles watched Boyd and Chris carry his dad out gently and carefully, always remembering that it was a human being they were carrying and not a dead weight. Stiles was sure it was harder to carry and remember when they weren't in a coffin, so he was very grateful for their respect and care.

He stayed behind for a few moments to collect himself, breathing deeply and gathering strength. He felt Derek come behind him and Stiles leaned back into his broad chest, taking comfort from the warmth and the sense of security that his presence always brought.

A kiss was pressed into his hair, a large arm coming around him to rest a hand on his heart. Stiles covered it with his own and they stood like that for a few, all too brief moments, before reluctantly pulling away and moving hand in hand out of the door to head outside.

They moved through the tunnels and out the heavy metal door of the back entrance, emerging out into the pale, cold sunlight. It stung his eyes after being in the dark for so long, momentarily obscuring his vision as he adjusted to it. When he finished rubbing his eyes and the world came back into focus, Stiles almost wished it hadn't. Because what was in front of him struck him like lightning.

His Pack was all standing around looking at him, positioned in a semi circle around a hole in the ground and a covered body lying on a thick blanket next to it.

Stiles was so blindingly angry for a moment, knowing his dad didn't deserve to be lying on the cold ground, about to be buried in it with no coffin and no ceremony. They were Catholic for fuck sake, he deserved to be buried on holy ground next to his wife, his name added to her headstone just like he always wanted.

It pained Stiles beyond words that he wouldn't get to do that for him. He didn't carry his coffin, he didn't have a wake, he didn't bury him the way his dad wanted. He failed him in keeping him alive and he failed him again in giving him the respect he deserved in death.

“I know this isn't what you want for him. Or what he might have wanted. But it doesn't matter. That isn't him anymore. He knows you're doing your best and we'll give him all the respect he deserves and try and make the best of what we have. Just remember that it's his body we're burying, not him. He's still with you and whether you buried him properly or like this, that wouldn't change a thing. Everything about him that matters is with you and with your mom.”

Stiles was suddenly reminded of half a body. Half a body buried in the dirt of a burnt down house, marked with nothing more than a spiral of wolfsbain rope. If anyone knew how this felt, it was Derek.

Nodding to him, Stiles squeezed their joined hands, a fact which did not go unnoticed by their friends, most of them exchanging 'subtle' looks with each other as Alpha and human stepped up and joined their semi circle, though still keeping to the outskirts.

Chris stepped forward, obviously acting as the overseer of the faux funeral. He stood at the head of the grave they'd dug and addressed them all.

“Whilst this isn't ideal or good enough for someone like Sheriff Stilinski, it's all we can do. We've gathered here to put to rest the body of a good and honorable man, a loving father, a loyal friend and, both before and after this disaster descended, a devoted protector. He will be missed by all of us. I first met John...”

Stiles tuned out, wanting to focus on anything but the eulogy that Chris was giving. He'd become friends with his dad once he'd been brought into the loop, and they were frequently in each other’s company. They both shared a passion for fishing and often indulged in it on a weekend when their busy work schedules allowed it and there was many a night when Stiles came home to find the two of them drinking whisky and playing poker at his dinning room table. Stiles was glad that his dad finally had a friend, someone as lonely as him and someone who understood the pain of losing the love of your life. They bonded over it and had quickly become thick as thieves.

Stiles purposely avoided looking at the man as he spoke, not wanting to see the pain and sorrow that laced his voice and would no doubt be all too visible in his eyes. He also didn't want to look at the faces of the people stood around; didn't want to see his friends throwing sad looks at him or his best friend comforting his mom, the woman he still couldn't stop partially blaming for what had happened. But mostly he didn't want to look at the reason they were all there.

Instead, Stiles looked around, half taking in the quiet tranquility of the forest and half looking out for anything that might emerge from it. It was hard to imagine though, even after seeing it for himself, that anything could be wrong with the world when stood where he was, the beautiful surroundings giving off a false impression of peace and safety.

From where he was standing, he couldn't see the destruction of the Hale house, or the bodies strewn outside of it. All he could see was the tall, old trees that surrounded them. All he could hear was bird song and the rustling of the wind through the leaves. All he could smell was upturned earth, the light scent of damp wood and forest foliage. He breathed deep and let it fill his lungs, focusing on his ancient surroundings. They must have seen so much, these trees. They'd seen the world change time and time again, standing upright and strong as time moved around them.

Maybe they'd see the end of humanity and once again become the owners of the earth. Maybe this infection, this plague was God's way of balancing everything out. He gifted this planet to humanity and as they evolved they responded by plundering the earth around them, killing it and killing each other.

Maybe they deserved to be wiped out.

“Stiles?”

A hand squeezed his arm as he came back to himself, nearly jerking back in surprise when he found himself face to face with Chris, his hand on his shoulder as he said his name.

“Sorry, what?”

Chris looked sad as he looked him in the eye and gave him a small, thin smile.

“Would you like to say something before we begin?”

Stiles was torn. Half of him wanted to give his dad the eulogy he deserved, wanted to tell his friends just how special his father was and how the world really wouldn't be the same without him. But the other half wanted to vomit every time he even imagined opening his mouth and speaking in front of the hole in the earth they were soon to bury his father in. At the moment, the two sides were warring within him and he had no idea which side would win.

“Stiles?”

“I...I don't...no. No I can't. He already...he knows.”

He couldn't do it. He really couldn't. Words were usually Stiles' power, his sword and shield. But this time they had abandoned him. Everything he wanted to say his father already knew and as long as he did, it didn't matter about anyone else.

Chris opened his mouth as though to disagree with his choice, try and make him reconsider. But as he looked Stiles in the eye, something he saw there must have changed his mind, as he simply gave his shoulder another squeeze and stepped back, walking to the grave and standing in front of his dad's body and a waiting Boyd.

“Derek...would you?”

“Of course.”

The Alpha turned to face him with understanding on his face. He gently took Stiles face in his hands and ran his thumbs over his cheekbones, collecting the tears that Stiles didn't even realise he was shedding. Regardless of the people who were watching, some not even bothering to pretend that there weren't, Derek kissed him so softly and with such love that he felt light headed. That done, Derek turned and joined Boyd and Chris as they bent to lift his father.

Stiles felt a presence next to him and he turned to see Lydia by his side, her delicate hand slipping into his as she gently tugged him forward. He allowed himself to be lead closer to the Pack, closer to the grave. The three men waited until he came to a stop before they ever so carefully began lowering his dad into the ground.

He almost couldn't watch but he made himself and soon, his father’s body was laid in the earth, the three men stepping back with bowed heads before turning to retrieve the shovels. Stiles slowly crouched down, grabbing a handful of rich earth and holding it in his hand. He stepped right to the foot of the grave, held his closed fist over it before slowly letting it fall through his fingers.

A petite arm wrapped itself around his waist once more and he placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling his former crush and best female friend tightly to him. They stood like that as Chris, Boyd and Derek began filing in the grave, Stiles wincing with every shovel full of soil that hit his dad until he finally became used to it and the grave was filled and patted down.

Looking at the mound of earth, it was hard to think of his dad under it all alone, so he pushed it from his mind lest it drive him mad.

“Stiles? We're all heading in now. Melissa has gone ahead to make us some food. You should eat.”

He turned to Isaac and shot him a small smile. He really was the cutest member of the Pack, hands down. He was an actual puppy. Well, a puppy that could eviscerate you as easily as look at you, but a puppy none the less.

“Thanks Isaac, I'll be there in a minute. I just...I need to say goodbye on my own. You go ahead and make sure they save me something okay?”

Isaac nodded and began to walk away, only to turn around and rush back over, pulling Stiles into a tight hug. He was caught of guard at first but soon returned the embrace; his friend’s errant curls tickling the side of his face. Isaac soon pulled back and sped off once more without a word, leaving only Stiles and Derek left at the grave.

“Do you want me to leave as well? I understand that you need to do this on your own but I wanted to check, just in case you wanted me there.”

Stiles gave a small smile and moved forward, resting his head against the werewolf’s ridiculously sculpted chest and reveling in the heat he always gave off. Arms came up to wrap around him and Stiles could just stay like that forever, warm and safe, protected from the outside world by strong arms.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into the Alpha's skin, “but I need to do this alone. I won't be long.”

They reluctantly broke apart, Derek nodding in response and dropping a kiss to Stiles' forehead.

“I'll wait for you inside. Just shout if you need me.”

He watched Derek walk away, waiting until he entered the house before turning and walking up to the grave. It still made his heart clench painfully to think of his father under there. 

Stiles stopped when he reached the head of the grave before dropping down to his knees right next to the heaped mound of earth.

“Hi dad. I, err, I don't even know what to say really. Just...I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. It was all my-” he broke off, a sob forcing it's way up his throat. He wiped roughly at the tears making their way down his face and placed his hand on the earth covering his dad.

“It's all my fault. I know you won't want me to think that but I do. I'm also ashamed to say that I...I blame Melissa too. Rationally I know it isn't her fault either but I can't stop thinking it. You'd be so disappointed in me.”

Stiles shook his head and bowed it, tears dripping into the soil when he couldn’t bring himself to wipe them away or try to hold them back.

“I don't know what to do now dad. I found the Pack, I got here just like I wanted but I feel like I failed. I promised Lea and Dan that I’d get them here and they'd be safe and I failed them both. Dan saved me and made me promise to keep Lea safe. I fucked that up too. Then I try and rescue you and that goes to shit as well. Everything I try and do just ends in disaster. What do I do now dad? You always knew the answers to everything. You were...no, you are, my superhero. I know you'll be happy where you are because I know mom is there with you. But I just want you back. But I learnt when mom died that life is a bitch and it'll only hurt you in the end. I’d do any-”

He stopped when a cold chill settled over him, his heart beating faster and his breath quickening in panic. At first he thought it was the onset of a panic attack but it felt different. Then he realised what it was.

Terror. Sheer, cold terror.

He looked around, head whipping left to right, as he looked all around him, seeing nothing that could have caused this level of fear. But his instincts were screaming at him, telling him something bad was near and to get to safety.

He pushed the fear away for a moment and forced his eyes to return to the grave.

“I need to go now dad. Something doesn't feel right. But I just want you to know that you will never, ever leave my thoughts. I love you dad and I love you mom. I promise I'll fight till the last, but I can't help but think I'll see you sooner rather than later.”

Stiles pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaking with the urge to run.

“Bye dad.”

And with that, he finally turned and began moving quickly back to the house, resisting the urge to leg it as quick as he could.

Just as he stepped inside the back entrance of the tunnel, turning to shut the door behind him, he saw it. A shape. A dark shape just inside the tree line.

Terror hit him so violently he thought his heart would explode but when he opened the door wider once again to look back into the trees, he found nothing. 

The spot where he'd seen whatever it was he'd seen was now empty. 

He let loose the breath he'd been holding and told himself it was just his imagination, fear and grief making him jumpy. He shut and bolted the heavy metal door firmly and shook his head, refusing to listen to his paranoia. It was a trick of the eye and nothing more.

But still the terror remained.


	42. Chapter 42

A/N Hey guys!! Okay, here is a little filler chapter that introduces the beginning of the end game...*super evil ominous grin and cackles* Enjoooy and toodle pip....

 

Scratch. Scrape. Scratch. Scrape. Scratch. Scrape. Scratch.

Over and over the sounds of sharp, ragged nails scratching uselessly along a metal door rang out through the empty corridors.

The lights flicker, machines give their last few warning beeps, whirring and working till the very end.

The lights go out.

The power dies, never to be revived. The back up generator is finished.

The damning sound of a mechanically controlled lock clicking open echoed throughout the hospital.

Moans and growls double in intensity as a thick, heavy door was slowly pushed open with a groan. Pushed open from the inside.

A hand appears around the edge of the door. There were not words for how this hand looked and the body attached to it would surely be worse.

The door swung open fully, revealing a creature that defied reality.

It stalked forward, its twisted, elongated body twitchy but functional. Its head swung from side to side, blood clotted eyes taking in everything.

There was something new about this abomination though, something infinitely more dangerous than any that had come before it.

Intelligence. There was a light in the creature’s eyes. It was not mindless.

It stopped, raised its head to the sky and let out a noise that could surely summon Satan himself.

A few moments later, it was answered. The same hellish howl repeated back to it from each corner of the hospital.

It sniffed the air, sharp toenails scratching against the floor as it waited. The noises stopped, prompting the creature to begin its journey through the empty, chaotic stillness of the hospital.

A twisted, demonic grin never leaving its face.


	43. Chapter 43

A/N OMG GUYS I AM SO FREAKING SORRY ABOUT HOW LONG IT'S BEEN SINCE MY LAST UPDATE!!!!! I AM SO PISSED OFF WITH MYSELF!!!!!!!!!! Real life has once again took over and made me its bitch -.- And my illness has also kicked my arse meaning I had to nip back to England to visit the hospital -.- twas not fun m'dears. But I am here!! And alive!! And I come with an update!!!! It's a long one too as an apology :p This chapter is a bit of a fast forward and leaves everything all nice and set up for the end game that has now begun...So yeah, I'm so sorry guys, I do hope you all haven't given up on me!! I'd also love it if any of you could drop me a little comment, as I always adore hearing from you guys ^__^ I hope you all are well and that you enjoy the new chapter :) I promise you won't have to wait as long for the next one either :p Toodle pip :)

 

 

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Understandably, Stiles was utterly destroyed, barely moving from the bed he shared with Derek whether said werewolf was there or not. It was like he didn't have anything left in him. No light, no life, no energy, no drive.

It scared the Pack, as they were not used to their livewire friend acting so lifeless. Stiles had come back inside after the funeral, pale and shaking, looking grief stricken but also terrified. He hadn't told anyone why, hadn't told anyone anything in fact. He simply came inside, walked passed them all and collapsed down onto the mattress serving as a bed in his and Derek's room.

And Derek? Well, the best comparison for how he acted was like a mother wolf to her cubs, a parallel that made him growl whenever anyone said it, but honestly, no one was able to deny the likeness. 

He fussed and cared for Stiles all hours of the day and night. He made him eat and drink, all but threw him into the shower because in his own words, “if I'm sleeping in the same bed as you then you can damn well shower because there is no way I am being stuck with your stench” and most of all, comforted him. The Alpha wrapped himself around Stiles and held him all night long, fighting off his recurring nightmares with soft kisses and strong, safe embraces.

For a week Stiles stayed like that, barely responsive to the outside world, wrapped up in his own pain, grief and guilt. He refused to speak; in fact, it seemed more as if he physically couldn’t speak. He stared through anyone who tried to talk to him; eyes empty, and he only ate when forced to by Derek. 

Everything that had occurred, everything he'd been shoving to one side until they were safe, all of it came crashing down on him at the same time. It was about time he had a proper break down and this one had been brewing ever since the outbreak began.

But then one morning, Stiles simply woke up and got out of bed. He left a lightly snoring Derek to his sleep after pressing a soft kiss to his head and headed up to the showers. He stayed under the blessedly still hot water for a while, feeling more alive with every second. He then dressed in clean sweats and one of Derek's softest tshirts before heading back down into the common room for food. It was very early morning so nobody was about, meaning Stiles had enough time and peace to make a big pot of coffee for everyone when they came in. He was then looking through the cupboards and bags for something to eat when he saw a bunch of ingredients that gave him a fantastic idea.

That morning the Pack woke up to the delightful smell of pancakes and the hilarious sound of Stiles singing Thrift Shop as he cooked.

The Pack descended on the common room like a plague of locusts, most sending loud and joyful prayers of thanks to the heavens and others simply sitting at the table with a mug of coffee and smiling. It was times like this; with Stiles finally smiling once more as he flicked pancake batter at Scott's head, that you could almost forget the world had fallen apart around them.

"How on earth are you even making pancakes? Don't you need milk and eggs?" questioned Isaac, prompting Stiles to turn from the camp stove and point a batter covered spatula at the adorable werewolf.

"That, my dear wolfy friend, is where you'd be wrong. My mom couldn't have dairy, so I happen to know a great alternative recipe. And it is, if I do say so myself, pretty freaking awesome."

And with that, he turned back to the camp stove, grabbed the frying pan that sat on it and smoothly flipped the pancake into the air.

Amazingly, he even caught it.

Stiles continued to make the pancakes, tossing them high into the air much to the amazement of the Pack who had long known his clumsy nature. They cheered him on and called out dares for how high he could throw them or how many spins he could do before he caught them.

In the middle of this noise and laughter, a lone werewolf appeared at the doorway, leaning against it with his arms folded and a small, fond smile on his face.

Said werewolf stalked forward silently, intent upon his goal and chosen target.

With unnatural quietness, he snuck behind the cooking human, leaned in until his lips were almost touching his ear...

"Boo."

An unholy screech resounded through the common room as Stiles jumped about a foot in the air, dropping the pancake he had just been in the middle of tossing.

The Pack burst out laughing and did nothing to help their Alpha who was currently being smacked soundly on the bicep with a frying pan. Repeatedly.

If anyone looked into the room at that moment, they would see a group of happy, laughing people, their close bonds almost visibly linking them to each other. They would see couples obviously in love and friends more family than anything. They would see easy jokes and content smiles.

So it just goes to show that even in the darkest of times, even when the world is crashing down, there will always be little pockets of happiness somewhere. And whilst those still existed, the world would never truly end.

The next few weeks past by in a haze of surprising happiness. There was always fear yes, and the constant thrum of danger never left them, but it just didn't seem to matter because for the first time in a long time, they were together. They were as safe as one could be in this new and deadly world and it felt like if they could all just stick together, they would be okay.

The whole Pack had never been closer and even the unusual duos like Scott and Jackson were as close as any others. They were all bound together even more tightly now than just the pack bond; they each knew that the people around them would protect them no matter what and they were painfully aware of the fact that they were all each other had left.

But none were closer than Stiles and Derek. The whole Pack gravitated around them because of the sheer love that they generated, and they found themselves the leaders of a ragtag bunch in a world gone to shit. Lydia and Erica often called them Mom and Dad, though the titles swapped between the two of them depending on the situation.

Words probably weren’t adequate to describe the connection shared by those two. It was a thing of pure beauty, a relationship that had grown over so many years from mutual distrust and dislike, to reluctant allies, to friends, to the closest of confidants, to maybe more and then finally to what they had now.

They spent every night wrapped up in each others arms, sometimes talking, sometimes simply listening to each other breathe; their heartbeats strong and steady. They kissed like it was their last night on earth, which was always a possibility no matter how much they defended their home, and one night, Derek led them both upstairs into his old room. 

It was lit softly with a few candles scattered about and the windows covered to disguise the glow. They looked at each other and felt like their hearts would burst, and there, amongst reminders of a time before the end of the world, they finally made love.

Time passed. Derek spent it training his Pack with a fervor, but not just about fighting. No, he departed all the knowledge he possessed over each of the members that needed it. 

He taught Scott how to be an Alpha, how to harness his natural ability for it in case he needed to take over from Derek. He was a surprisingly quick learner now, well, as long as Allison wasn’t nearby, and soon Derek felt confident in Scott’s abilities to lead if he needed to.

For Isaac, he didn’t so much teach him, as become a role model for him. Derek showed the young and damaged Beta how to be a man as well as a werewolf. He did his upmost to make up for his terrible behavior over the first few years they knew each other, even though Isaac had already forgiven him a long time ago, and finally became the male role model that the young werewolf had always needed. 

They became extremely close, Derek even going so far as to confide in the younger man a bit about the fire and why it happened in order to show that they could both emerge from under the shadows of their tragic pasts if they helped each other and had people who loved them. And it actually worked. Isaac finally began to heal the last remnants of the hurts that had plagued him most of his life.

Erica, who Derek had always held great affection for, he taught how to control her strength, her confidence and her attitude, until she finally settled into her skin and abilities. She’d come so far since she was first bitten, but thanks to him, she finally became the woman she was always meant to be, strong and powerful, quiet confidence underlining her every action whilst also remaining humble and respectful. 

More and more she reminded him of his mother and Laura. Maybe that was a part of the reason he held such a soft spot for her. Either way, he knew she’d have fit in all too well with the females of his family, a fact she beamed at when he told her.

Boyd had always been the quiet strength and sturdiness that Derek had needed in a pack member and there really wasn’t much more that Derek could teach him. Instead, he helped him reconcile the loss of his sister and the blame that had haunted him every moment since.

Jackson, well, Derek had never been very close to the Kanima turned werewolf, his personality being far too much of a pain in his ass, but he still tried to impart some kind of knowledge onto him.

This ended up being how to make the perfect cup of tea as he bestowed upon him the words, “try to stop being a dick, yeah?”. 

Truly words of wisdom Derek, well done.

Lydia and Allison proved to be the trickiest; as he really didn’t have anything he could teach them. Instead, he forgave them for any and all of their actions against him over the past few years, and they him. Though they’d mostly done this already, after they’d sat down and really talked about everything, it was like the last of the darkness between them had been cleared away.

But the good things can never last. 

It began in small ways, an uneasy feeling following Stiles whenever he stepped outside. 

He ignored it at first, passing the feelings off as his hyper vigilance, his paranoia playing up. But eventually it just got too much.

He saw things. Monstrous, shadowy things out of the corner of his eye that vanished once he turned to look, heart pounding. Every time he'd shake it off, pushing the gnawing terror to the back of his mind, some part of him desperate to forget, just for a moment, that the world was now a constantly deadly place. Stiles just wanted to keep hold of this tentative happiness and peace that they'd all found for as long as he could.

But it wouldn't go away. And every night he lay awake in Derek's arms, the safest place on earth, and felt that if he fell asleep or looked away, something evil would emerge from the shadows and attack. 

The dark smudges under his eyes grew more pronounced and he even took to eating less food in the stupid attempt to prolong their supplies. Anything to put off the need for a supply run. 

Eventually, the Pack could no longer ignore the change in their usually so smiley and brave friend. They all but cornered him in the common room one night and refused to leave until he told them what was bothering him. 

So he did. And just like he'd feared, they didn't believe him.

"Derek I am telling you! I know what I saw, what I felt! I'm not an idiot!"

A frustrated growl escaped the Alpha as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not saying you're an idiot Stiles! I'm just saying that you're tired and still grieving. And that maybe you're so aware of the dangers out there, that you've started to see them where they're not."

"I'm not fucking paranoid either!!"

"Guys guys, Jesus! Would you can it!" interrupted Lydia, stepping between the angry couple.

"Look, this is obviously scaring Stiles okay? And whether it is something or not, it's better to be prepared. So let's all be extra vigilant and up the security. Okay? Good. Now shut the fuck up, some people need to get some beauty sleep."

"You're already as beautiful as can be Lydz" Stiles told her with a tired smile.

"Oh I wasn't talking about me..." she said, a wicked smile gracing her face as she patted Derek's stubbly cheek.

This got a real smile out of Stiles and at the shocked look on his boyfriend's face, which quickly morphed into a scowl, he crumpled over with laughter, the whole Pack joining in right behind him.

And so it was ignored once more, pushed aside to make room for happy ignorance. 

But not for Stiles. It continued to plague him, pecking away at him like a vulture to a corpse. He was on high alert 24/7 and it wore him down, constantly trying to figure out what was hunting them. 

Then an idea struck him and he all but ran to Chris, going over his plan with him before gathering the Pack together.

"Okay," he said to the assembled mix of human and werewolf in front of him. "I've had an idea."

Stiles then went on to explain that he still believed there to be something wrong, something after them, and he had thought of a great way to find out.

Traps. A variety of different traps large enough and strong enough to catch infected or anything else that might be out there. 

They were skeptical at first, not sure that they wanted to risk putting themselves so out in the open as they set them up. However, once Stiles pointed out that if it didn't catch anything dangerous, then it might catch something they could eat. 

"There's all sorts in that forest Derek; deer, rabbits, whatever. So it's a win win!! On the one hand we could catch whatever dangers are near us thereby making it safer for us, or on the other hand it'd get us fresh food! We can't survive on dried and canned stuff forever you know. Plus, Chris agrees with me."

After a tense staring competition between Stiles and Derek, the later finally cracked with a sigh and nodded. 

That night, they went to bed and faced opposite directions, only their backs even close to touching. It was the furthest apart they'd ever slept. 

The next two days were full of nerves and crackling tension, as they went about preparing the types of traps they would need. Luckily, Chris had brought almost his entire arsenal when he and Alison came to the Hale House, so they were hardly short on equipment. The whole Pack was uneasy, especially the werewolves, and there was only one reason for that.

Derek and Stiles.

Everyone had grown so use to them as a couple that when they’d suddenly stopped talking, shooting pissed off glares at each other when the other wasn’t looking, well, it made them uneasy. 

The morning dawned bright and clear as Stiles, Derek, Chris and Boyd left the relative safety of their underground home and headed out into the forest surrounding the property. They weren’t stupid enough to suggest splitting up to save time; instead they stayed together, Chris setting up the traps with Stiles’ help as Derek and Boyd stood guard.

It went smoothly for the first three traps, as they slowly made their way around the perimeter of the Hale house setting up traps as they went. But of course it didn’t stay that way.

Stiles felt it once more, eyes on the back of his neck, watching, waiting. Every rustle of leaves sent his head snapping in that direction as he urgently tried to catch the unknown spectre that always seemed just out of his sight. It was driving him crazy, his nerves shot to bits.

“Infected! Over there!”

Derek’s calm but urgent voice rang through the clearing as he pointed to the rotting shadow of a creature that was making its way through the dense foliage to the side of them. 

“Let the boys deal with it while we finish this off.” Chris said, grabbing Stiles’ wrist as he moved to join them. Nodding reluctantly but agreeing all the same, he dropped his faithful bat and crouched back down again so together they could finish setting the trap as quickly as possible whilst also keeping an eye on the two werewolves currently taking out the zombie with a crowbar and one of Chris’ long knives.

They made quick work of the zombie; it’s partially caved in head having been separated from its body. Stiles expected to feel relief, the constant feeling of danger lifting. But he didn’t. It still felt like something was out there, watching them. Something far deadlier. He shivered, but kept his thoughts to himself.

Luckily, they didn’t encounter any more infected and by the time they were finished, the whole perimeter was covered by traps of different sizes and purposes. Stiles felt like he could breath for the first time in weeks, and the first thing he did was pull Derek into a long embrace, relishing the feeling of him in his arms once again.

Derek let out a contented sigh as he enveloped Stiles in his strong arms once again, having hated their fight just as much as Stiles. That night, they retired to their bed early and made up for lost time, before curling up as close as two people can possibly get, blocking out everything that wasn’t the feel of each other. 

Three days later they caught a deer in one of the traps. Chris was the one who found it, killed it and brought it back to the house to the exclamations of the Pack, who were beyond sick of dried, plain food. Everyone’s mouth practically watered at the thought of the juicy meat they would soon be enjoying.

Chris and Derek gutted and prepared the deer before passing the meat over to Stiles and Melisa, who seasoned it as best they could with the few spices they had. They were finally getting back to how they used to be and Stiles had almost forgiven her. She knew it’d always be in the back of his mind, as did Stiles, but they were content to ignore that. So they stood side by side as they cooked the meat and served it.

It was without doubt the most amazing tasting food they’d ever eaten. Ever. Of course, it could just be because they were so used to muesli bars and tins of beans, but that’s neither here nor there. 

Chris even snuck away for a few moments to return carrying a mostly full bottle of whisky, to which all of the humans cheered with great gusto. The rest of the evening then descended into a drunken ruckus, with laughter and singing and dancing. 

Stiles drank more than he probably should and ended up dragging Derek up to dance with him, despite the lack of music. He tried to resist, he really did, but Stiles was being way too endearing and Derek just couldn’t hold out. 

They all carried on long into the early hours of the morning, a much needed break from the constant stress of the past week, before they all dragged their pillows and blankets into the common room and curled up together in a messy pile of limbs. 

Right in the middle of the puppy pile, wrapped in Derek’s arms and surrounded by everybody he loved most in this world, Stiles finally felt safe. And so he slept.

The Pack’s happiness, and hangovers, lasted well into the next day and Stiles felt his mood lift greatly; despite the rather astounding hangover he was nursing. 

He was sat at the common room table with a huge mug of coffee and laughing with Lydia when it happened. 

“Stiles…”

His head shot up immediately at the sound of Isaac’s frightened voice, the smile falling off his face as his heart began beating ten to the dozen. 

“What is it Isaac? What’s happened?” Stiles choked out, panic making his throat close up.

Isaac opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t seem to get words out. He shook his head and instead brought his hands out from behind his back, displaying the item he held for Stiles to see.

Icy terror shot through him.

“It was sabotaged Stiles. Something…something disarmed the trap.”


	44. Chapter 44

A/N Heya m'loves :D See, I told you it wouldn't be as long :D Life seems to be calming down a touch now, so fingers crossed the next chapter will be out even quicker :) And I just wanted to say a huge thank you to you all for the views, comments, kudos and bookmarks. They mean the absolute world to me, I'm not even kidding. I love to know what you guys think about the story that's been taking up a large portion of my brain (and I'm blonde so that means a lot) for a very long time now, and when I hear that you're enjoying it, I float with joy :) Our journey is nearing its end and as much as I really, really, REALLY don't want it to finish, it must. So hang on tight now and prepare...  
I love you all and hope you enjoy. Toodle pip :) 

 

“So...”

Isaac’s awkward and slightly shaky voice breaks the silence that had fallen over the table where the whole Pack was congregated, all staring unblinkingly at the object sat in the middle. 

The sabotaged trap.

It sat in the middle of the table, its bent edges glinting in the low light almost mockingly, laughing at them for ever daring to think they were safe. 

Chris let out a sigh and stood from his seat, reaching forward to grab hold of the trap and turning it over in his hands as he’d done many times since it was found. Finally, he lifted his head and addressed the table; though his eyes mostly stayed on Stiles as he said the words everyone was dreading.

“This wasn’t done by any animal.”

Stiles nodded numbly, having known that would be the case ever since he saw the mangled trap. He’d just hoped to God he was wrong.

“It’s too cleverly done. Whoever did this knew exactly which bits to bend to disarm the whole thing.”

“Well…who did it then?” came Isaac’s voice from his spot on the floor thanks to the chair shortage, even with Allison and Erica sat on their respective boyfriend’s laps.

When Chris seemed unwilling or perhaps unable to answer, Stiles looked up with a sigh.

“It wasn’t a who Isaac, but a what. And…I think I might have an idea.”

His voice was slightly shaky but strong, the whole Pack staring fixedly at him, wiling him to continue.

“When I was leaving my flat to come here, I had to get through a lot of the infected. A serious lot of them. And at one point I was cornered, trapped against a building by…well, by three infected. Except they weren’t. Not the usual kind anyway. They seemed…intelligent. I was face to face with these things and I swear on all that is good and holy they had a spark in their eyes. They weren’t mindless or the normal decaying pieces of shit things we’ve seen before. They were a hell of a lot harder to kill as well. And…I think there's something similar here. Maybe...maybe something worse.”

“Why did you never tell us?”

He threw his arms up with an exasperated sigh, turning on Jackson and staring him down.

“I’ve been trying you jerks! Shut up and listen!”

The wolf sat back in his seat, as did the rest of them when they recalled all the times Stiles had said something over the last few weeks.

“So as I was saying. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you guys for weeks. Ever since my dad’s funeral actually. Just before I came back inside, I saw something. It was…hideous. It made me feel more terror than I ever have in my life, and with the life I’ve lived that is well and truly saying something. I couldn’t even see it properly and it still made me want to curl up and die before it could get to me.  
I’m pretty sure it was one of those infected. One of the…well I suppose you could call them evolved infected, though from what I did see of it, it looked different. But before I could be certain of anything, it disappeared.”

Stiles felt a hand grip his, squeezing tightly and it wasn’t until he looked up at Derek’s concerned face that he noticed he was shaking. 

“And that’s not all. Ever since then I’ve felt like I was being watched. Like I was being hunted. Why do you think I’ve been trying so hard to keep you guys inside?! I’ve been so sure that the second one of you left, it would get you. That’s why I argued so badly to put these traps up! Now even that’s fucked up.”

He felt Derek squeeze his hand again and he found his other moving, almost without him meaning to, up towards the necklace that he never took off. Derek’s necklace. He wrapped his hand around it and took comfort from it as he always did, missing the look of pure love that the wolf clutching his hand sent his way.

“But,” he started, voice stronger and more determined thanks to the support and comfort in both his hands, “at least we know that it’s not just ‘my imagination’ or ‘paranoia’ now huh. At least we know that there is something out there more dangerous and more intelligent than any of the infected we’ve encountered before. And we have to do something. I refuse to just sit here and wait for it to toy with us and pick us off one by one.”

The Pack all nodded, filling Stiles with relief. They finally believed him. Fair enough there was pretty solid proof, but still, they actually believed him. They’d know what to watch out for now. They’d be safer than they were when they refused to listen to him.

“Well, what can we do then? If these things can disarm our traps, what can we do to protect ourselves or even fight them?”

Stiles looked up at Allison and let out a frustrated sigh.

“I don’t know yet Ali. For once, I can’t think of a plan.”

It was hard admitting it out loud but it was true. There hadn’t been many times in his life were he had completely no idea what to do and it was killing him. 

“You’ll come up with something Stiles. You always do. And we’ll all be here to help. We won’t ignore you this time buddy, I swear we’ll listen.”

Scott, oh Scott. For all of his faults, there really wasn’t anyone on this earth who could be a better friend. He always knew exactly what Stiles needed to hear, and the utter faith Scott had in him filled him with hope and determination, especially when he saw the Pack all nodding in agreement.

With a fire ignited inside him once more, he looked around at the people he loved more than anything on this earth and made them a promise. He would save them. No matter what.

And that was that for a while. The Pack never went anywhere in groups less than two and everyone was on high alert, but none more so than Stiles. 

He was relentless. The Pack had always joked that Stiles’ power was protecting and doing anything for his friends and loved ones, but it was times like this that they remembered just how that joke came about. Because it was actually pretty damn true. 

He rarely slept and if he did it was only when he was exhausted and Derek would quite literally pick him up from whatever he was doing, sling him over his shoulder, throw him on the mattress and lie on him. He would honest to God flop his huge, muscly body on top of Stiles like a dead weight and refuse to move for anything other than dire emergencies such as fire, zombies or the desperate need for a piss. 

And no matter how lean Stiles had gotten over the past few months, trying to move an unwilling Derek Hale was about as easy as moving a fucking cruise liner. So in the end there really was nothing else he could do apart from sleep, in which case he would fall into a deep, almost corpse like slumber and would finally emerge hours later wrapped up comfortably in his boyfriends arms feeling much better.

They continued to put traps around the perimeter of the house, as advanced and elaborate as they could make them. These lasted longer than the first lot, and they even managed to catch a few normal infected, as well as a few rabbits, squirrels and on one memorable occasion, a deer, but eventually they’d find them rendered just as useless as the first.

One night, after days of little to no sleep and too much stress for any one person to handle, Stiles snapped. He found one of the bottles of alcohol that he’d brought with him from his flat all that time ago that had miraculously survived the trip and got utterly smashed. 

He punched and broke the bathroom mirror and went on a drunken rant about how the fuckers were toying with them or waiting for something. 

It was that night that he locked himself in Derek’s old bedroom in the Hale house and planned. It was that night that he knew what he had to do. What they all had to do.

They had to leave the Hale house.


	45. Chapter 45

A/N HEY MY DARLINGS, I'M BACK!!! Should I even bother saying sorry?? Like, does it even mean anything to you guys anymore?? I do hope so because seriously, I'm so fecking sorry it's once again taken a lifeage of the earth to write this -.- Life has been hectic!! As per, my health is a bitch, but the main reason I've had no time to write is because of the fact I only went and scored a massive freaking advertising campaign!!!! Woo!!!! It's the biggest one I've done yet and I literally just finished it this week! It went so well and the clients are really pleased with my work so I'm over the moon! I feel so badarse!!! But now I am just beyond tired and spent the day after just zonked out :p But then I finally kicked my arse into gear and finished this :) So it's half 2 in the morning, my eyes are bleeding, my bed is calling but I just had to get this posted :) 

Okay, down to business. We are literally a few chapters from the end now my friends and holy God you have no idea what you're in for...*manic grin* I just hope you all haven't abandoned it!! I love this fic and work really hard on it, so I so hope you're still enjoying it! I'm probably going to be really sad now and puppy dog eye you into dropping me a little message :p Just any kind of comment, I just wanna know you guys are still reading and enjoying is all :) But anyway, onto the story!! I really hope you like it, toodle pip :) P.S Don't think I'm insane for what is at the end of this chapter okay, I promise it will make sense soon...

 

 

Stiles started with small things; tshirts and pants that no one would miss, a couple of the dreaded breakfast bars, a few medical supplies, a map ect ect. He collected them all together in the two bags he brought with him and hid it up in the loft of the Hale house.

If they had to leave quickly, before he’d had a chance to convince them to leave willingly, he wanted them to have enough supplies to last for a little while and not leave them totally in the shit. He didn’t want them being stuck with nothing but their lives and the clothes on their backs.

Hopefully it wouldn’t matter, as they would have had time to properly pack and prepare, time to sort out a route and travel plan. He just had to convince them.

It would probably be easier to actually stop the apocalypse single handed, but hey ho.

As Stiles carried on with his secret preparations, Derek grew increasingly more concerned over his boyfriend’s sudden secrecy. Because whether Stiles realized it or not, he had begun to separate himself from the Pack, from Derek. And the Alpha didn’t like it one bit.

So after one night too many of not coming to bed, Stiles found himself set upon by his very angry boyfriend.

He was cloistered up in the loft of the Hale house, which had quickly become his secret retreat for planning and preparing for any eventuality he could think of, when he was struck by an overwhelming feeling of hopeless dread.

It was times like these that Stiles turned not to God, but to his mother. Throughout his life, Stiles had always talked to his mom as though she were right there with him. Mainly because he really believed she was.

After she died, he’d needed to believe in that more than anything because the thought of never being with her again or having her with him scared the living shit out of him. So much in fact, that it often sent him headfirst into a vicious panic attack whenever he thought about it.

So one night, as he lay curled up in bed and listened to his dad drunkenly smash a glass in the kitchen before crying, he just began talking. And he didn’t stop.

He talked to her about everything and anything, important things and unimportant things. He talked to her exactly as he would have when she was alive and it slowly began to lessen the crushing band of grief and pain around his chest until he finally fell into the first restful sleep he’d had since she died. And after that, it just became a habit.

Unfortunately for him, he picked the worse time to suddenly start talking to her, spilling his thoughts, feeling and most importantly, fears. Because unbeknownst to him, there was an Alpha werewolf stood just on the other side of the door.

“Mom? You there? I’m gunna go with yeah because lets face it, where else would you want to be other than watching your one and only spastic son fold up the Packs spare clothes. Better than telly this is!”

Sobering up, he folded the last of the clothes into one of the bags and pulled his notebook and spare map in front of him.

“I…I just don’t know what to do mom. What do I do? It’s too dangerous to stay here anymore, I know it is! Those monsters are just playing with us! I’m willing to bet my last Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup that they could get in here anytime they liked and I just can’t figure out why! And the not knowing what they want, but knowing they could kill us all at any second is literally driving me crazy! I can’t sleep, I can’t eat and I can’t do anything! God, I can’t even look at my fucking boyfriend anymore without wanting to curl up and cry.”

Stiles sniffed and swiped at his eyes roughly as outside the room, Derek stiffened, heart beating faster as things finally began to slot into place in his mind.

“I just keep seeing him die mom! All the time! He looks at me and I just think, was that the last time I’ll ever see him smile? I touch him and imagine him still and cold. I don’t want to be without him mom. I don’t want to be without any of them. I had to watch two friends die already, not to mention dad, and I just can’t do it again.”

He wiped away the tears stubbornly clouding his vision once more.

“God, I’m an idiot. I forgot to ask how dad’s doing up there! I bet he’s finally smiling again huh. Properly smiling. I’m happy for you both, even if it kills me. But if things end how I think they will, I’ll probably be seeing you sooner rather than later anyway. Coz I can’t watch them die mom. I can’t. I’d rather go first.”

He felt tears drip hot and heavy down his still too thin face and it just made him angry. He was so fucking angry. This all shouldn’t be happening!

Stiles broke down in silent, empty sobs, fist shoved in his mouth to muffle the sound, tension fuelling all his emotions and amplifying them tenfold. He was sick and tired of everything. He just wasn’t sure how much longer he could cope with it all, it was just too much.

He felt like Atlas, the whole world balanced on his shoulders and he just didn’t know if he was strong enough to hold it up anymore.

Tiny sparks of pain started up on his arm and it took a while to realise that it was him causing it, his nails digging into the pale skin hard enough to draw blood. The sensation opened the flood gates of all his anger, fear and frustration and he found himself digging his nails in even harder, scratching his porcelain skin hard enough to mark, pulling his hair, anything to let out the rage he was feeling and couldn’t show to anyone else. He couldn’t burden the Pack with this; he had to seem strong and sturdy for them.

His anger and hopelessness swelled as he rocked back and forth desperately, little drops of blood running down his arms. He balled his hands into fists and hit them against his head, his leg, his arms.

Thanks to the focus with which he doled out these punishments upon himself, he didn’t hear the creaking of the floorboards and wasn’t even aware of the other person in the room until he felt warm, strong arms grab his fists and stop their bruising blows.

Stiles was terrified at first, heart pounding wildly as the overwhelming instinct to fight or flee kicked in. Then the familiar scent and feel of Derek washed over him and he fell boneless into the embrace. He pressed his face against his boyfriend’s neck and they clung to each other so tightly that for a moment, he could allow himself to believe that nothing would be able to part them.

“…’s okay Stiles, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m not leaving I promise. I won’t ever leave you.”

Words filtered through the panicked haze that had crept over him and he realised that he’d been speaking his thoughts and fears allowed into Derek’s skin. Stiles squeezed his fists tight again, realizing that all his careful planning and how much he’d separated himself from Derek was all for nothing; he’d been found out.

When he felt himself come round from the panic attack he only just realized he’d been having, Stiles reluctantly withdrew slightly from Derek’s embrace, ready to face the questions he no doubt had.

But for the life of him, Stiles just couldn’t make himself meet Derek’s eyes. He was so afraid of what he’d find there, after knowingly going behind his back to make plans for the eventuality that Derek’s would fail. It was like he was saying he didn’t trust Derek to keep them all safe.

“You won’t lose me. And I won’t let anyone else get hurt either. Please trust me.”

Finally looking up at the Alpha, Stiles wasn’t surprised to see disappointment and hurt in his hazel eyes, but what shone through the most was fierce love and the desire to protect.

Desperately grabbing the werewolf’s arms, he held on tight and looked him dead on.

“Listen to me Derek, I swear to you on my parents graves, I never thought for one second that you couldn’t protect us! I just…after everything I’ve seen, I just had to be sure. I couldn’t carry on with that axe over me; constantly worrying if everything we’ve done will be enough. So I just, I had to be sure. I had to have a back up plan.”

Derek nodded, agreeing so far. Stiles wished so badly he could leave it, just shut his mouth and not drop the bomb he was about to. But if anything happened because of his silence, because of his love for Derek and wish to see him happy, then he’d never forgive himself. He had no choice.

“Derek…I think we have to leave the house.”

Four hours later and they still weren’t any closer to a ceasefire. Stiles tried to make Derek see reason, showing him all the preparation and planning he’d done, and Derek tried to make Stiles see reason as well, tearing his plans apart with what ifs and maybes.

Both thought they were in the right and neither was planning on backing down. 

So pretty much the same as always then.

In the end, for the sake of peace and not upsetting their 'children' anymore with the way they were arguing, not to mention their desire to simply hold each other again, they decided to let the matter rest for a time. 

Derek knew that Stiles would continue with his preparations as though they would be leaving any minute, and Stiles knew Derek would continue making the House safer as though they would be staying forever. They silently agreed that this way, they both felt like they were doing all they could to protect their Pack, which brought them some measure of peace.

This continued for two days, both carrying on as normal but as a couple again, the secrets and fears that had begun to grow between them vanishing. It was good to be together again, truly together, their hearts, minds and souls coming back into alignment once more. 

Then everything changed.

It was just a normal day when it happened. Well, as normal as it could be in an apocalyptic world, and most of the Pack was lounging about in the common room. Scott was tidying up their breakfast with the help of Stiles. Though in all honestly, he wasn’t so much helping as trying to trip the werewolf up or wipe the dirty bowls on him, Mellissa watching with a fond yet exasperated smile on her face.

Derek was sat reading with his long, muscular legs propped up on the table and Boyd at his side, their shoulders touching in quiet solidarity and friendship as the younger man dozed, the smell and sound of Pack putting him at ease.

Allison and Lydia were off giggling in the corner, probably planning their inevitable world domination or something. Either of them alone was scary enough, but when they put their heads together as they were currently doing, it normally didn’t bode well for anyone. 

Chris and Jackson were guarding the door and making a perimeter check, something they always had at least two people doing, just in case. 

Lastly, Erica and Isaac were huddled together, lean bodies bent over their corner of the table as they tinkered and played with an old broken radio they’d found, as they’d been doing for many days.

It had come as a surprise that both Erica and Isaac had a keen interest in fixing and making things, as well as a talent for it. When asked how they picked up this talent, they both got a sad, far away look in their eyes. 

It turned out that Isaac was always forced to help his dad with his repairs, so he picked up pretty much everything he was taught out of fear of getting anything wrong.

Erica had developed this particular skill whilst in the midst of her epilepsy. Before the bite, she didn’t really have any friends to speak of and her father, who hated seeing her lonely, decided to teach her all he knew about fixing things and engineering, so she had something to do. 

It did her the world of good and some of Erica’s favourite memories were of she and her dad shut away in the garage surrounded by broken bits of machinery and one by one, making them work again. 

She once told Stiles that it reminded her of what Derek did with the Pack; taking all the separate broken pieces and giving them a place in something bigger. And despite the rough start they all had, it was a pretty damn accurate analogy. 

It turned out that her dad died a few weeks before she got turned, leaving her stuck with a bitchy mom she hadn’t seen for a while, her parents having been separated for many years. Stiles wanted to ask about her, whether she was alive or dead, whether Erica even knew the answer, but every time he was about to, he just decided to drop it, not wanting to upset her or remind her.

It was pretty much the same with the rest of the Pack and the parent issue. He knew that Lydia’s parents were out of the country when the infection hit, and Jackson’s had been living in London since he left home to attend college, so he wasn’t sure even they knew their parents fates. 

Boyd lost contact with his last foster family as soon as he was old enough, them never really having connected enough to warrant a real relationship and he’d never spoken of them except in passing. 

The rest of the Pack were either lucky enough to have someone with them, or in his case, knew for certain that they were gone. He wasn’t sure which was worse really, knowing they were dead or thinking they could still be alive but with no way to get to them. One thing he was sure everyone could agree on however, was that it all sucked.

Stiles wasn’t paying much attention to the two werewolves muttering with their heads together, hunched over the battered radio, the whole Pack was pretty much absorbed in their own activities and thoughts. That was however, until a joyful cry erupted and broke the comfortable silence.

“It’s working!! We did it!”

The Pack all raised their heads and looked over to Erica and Isaac as they lifted the now working radio over their heads. Stiles dried his wet, soapy hands on the towel next to him and moved closer to them.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you do realise that nothing will be on right?”

Erica shot him a despairing look.

“We haven’t tuned it in yet genius. And you never know, there could be something on.”

Not wanting to argue or rain on their parade, he simply nodded and turned back to washing up, the Pack also going back to what they were doing.

Silence fell once more, everyone once again absorbed in their tasks. That was until a loud crackling filled the room followed by a woman’s voice.

“…safe place for you. You are not alone. We have food, shelter, medical supplies and security. We are free from infection. We are called Sanctuary and you can find us at…”

Stiles didn’t even hear the rest of the message over the buzzing in his head. He stood stock still, soapy hands dripping water onto the floor as the automated message looped round and round.

Eventually he worked up enough motor control to turn his head and take in the pure shell-shocked expressions on each member of the Pack’s faces. 

“Is that-”

“-the fuck was that!?”

“Is it real?”

“What the-”

“Oh my God…”

And then they all erupted as one.

Stiles and Derek turned to each other, their eyes meeting and conveying a whole conversation in minutes. Is it real? Is it a trap? Is it safe? Is anywhere safe? Should they try? 

“Stiles?”

He tore his eyes away from Derek as he heard his name and was surprised to realise that everyone in the room was quiet once more and staring at him, Isaac looking at Derek sheepishly before turning to Stiles and speaking again.

“What should we do?”

It took a moment but eventually it hit him, they were waiting for instructions. They were looking to him as though he were the leader! 

“Woah woah woah guys! Why are you asking me that!? Derek’s the Alpha here, not me!” he exclaimed, arms gesturing wildly is his surprise before turning to look at Derek incredulously. 

“No, they’re right,” said the werewolf, standing from his seat and moving to face Stiles.

“You’ve been out there, you’ve travelled through it. The furthest we’ve travelled is in and out of town. You’ve more experience with it all. Plus, in case you hadn’t noticed, you’ve kind of been leading us from the start.”

Stiles took in his boyfriend’s small smirk but serious eyes before turning to look at the Pack, it finally sinking in that this was what they truly believed. They really, honestly saw him as their unspoken leader. It seemed so ridiculous to him that he nearly ended up bursting into fits of laughter right then and there. 

As it was, he managed to contain his laughter and simply looked perplexed at the faith the Pack seemed to have in him. Stiles knew he was an asset to the Pack, it took him a long time but eventually he had realised it, but to actual lead them was something he both never wanted to do and never felt able to do. 

“Look dude, I know you don’t think you’re a leader or that you should do this, but trust me, you can. You already have been, you just didn’t realise it. So really you wouldn’t be doing anything different! Come on man, I know you can do this. No offense or anything Derek, we all know you’re the Alpha of the Pack and that wouldn’t change, but Stiles just knows more about this.”

Stiles just started at his best friend in shock as Scott shrugged apologetically at Derek. 

“No offense taken Scott, I agree. Stiles, we need you to do this. We need to decide whether we stay here or try for this Sanctuary place. I know I’ve been stubborn about the idea of leaving, but that was before I knew there was even a chance of something else being out there. I’ve been thinking hard on it for days and after hearing that message…well, if you think it would be safer to move and that we could survive the trip, then I’ll listen. I mean, you have been planning and preparing for the possibility of leaving after all.”

“What!?”

Every head whipped around to face him, once again making him want to laugh inappropriately because they just looked like a pack of puppies. Or pugs! They were definitely pugs when they do that head tilt thing. 

“Why the hell are you smirking!?”

Stiles quickly wiped the look off of his face, mumbling an explanation about pugs and head tilts, making Lydia look even more irate and the rest of them simply exasperated. 

They quickly sobered and Stiles finally let it sink in that they wanted him to take charge on this, nothing he was saying seeming to have any effect. But if that was what they wanted and Derek wasn’t about to kick his ass over it, then he’d damn well put all his planning and preparations to use.

“Okay then guys, let’s figure this shit out then. Isaac, turn that up, I need to hear all of it.”

The curly haired werepuppy did as he was told and they all shut up to listen.

Yosemite National Park. They’d set up the Sanctuary in the middle of Yosemite National fucking Park.


	46. Chapter 46

A/N HI GUYS!!! (This was originally meant to be posted on the 18th but I've just checked the clock and technically it's the 19th but FUCK THAT IF I HAVEN'T GONE TO BED YET THEN IT IS STILL THE SAME DAY!!) GUESS WHAT TODAY IS!!!! IT'S THIS FICS FIRST BIRTHDAY!!!!! A YEAR AGO TODAY I NERVOUSLY POSTED THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THIS FIC!!!!!! Oh my God guys, seriously, I cannot even begin to thank you all enough for reading and commenting and all that, but most of all for actually enjoying it :) It's made me so happy :) This fic has literally come everywhere with me for the past year and it's mental the amount of time I've put into it and the amount of time I've spent in the world of it! And honestly, I'd love to attach a chapter full of all the crazy google searches I've done, all the mental things I've asked people and all the shit I've ended up properly planning out :p 

BUT ALL OF IT HAS BEEN WORTH IT AND I JUST LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH AND I LOVE THIS FIC IT IS MY BABY!!!!! We are literally at the end now guys!!!! I reckon it'll all end either the next chapter or the one after that, but OH MY GOD IT'S NEARLY DONE!!!!!! *nazgul screech* I cannot even believe it.

Anyway, sorry about that, I just had to go mental and let you all know. Okay so, you will literally want to kill me by the end of this I reckon :D I truly cannot wait for any comments :D And a shit ton happens in it too so I hope it isn't too mish mash!! (there was also going to be actual written smut but when I got down to it I literally could not write a thing that wasn't basically "and then they did the do" but hey ho) Also, please forgive any mistakes, it's 3 in the morning, my eyes feel like Satan's balls and my bed is shouting my name. So yeah, I LOVE YOU ALL AND PLEASE ENJOY!!! Toodle pip :) 

 

 

They talked for hours, shooting from ecstatic to terrified every few sentences. Everyone seemed to be of the same mind; they wanted to try to make it, they were just scared. Scared that it wouldn’t be what they hoped, scared they wouldn’t all survive the trip, scared that the Sanctuary had all ready been overrun and what they heard was just an old message, doomed to repeat over and over, talking to an empty and destroyed world.

But eventually they all reached the same conclusion; they had to try.

Once this decision had been reached; everything suddenly took on a new light. The house finally heard laughter again, despite the situation, and for the first time in a long time, they all felt the stirrings of happiness in their hearts. They felt like nothing could touch them so long as they had each other.

They finally had hope.

And Stiles, despite the enormous amount of pressure he felt, could finally breathe again, the crushing terror easing up just enough for him to actually be able to enjoy being with the people he loved without seeing the corpses they could possibly become. Yes things could still go tits up, but he no longer felt as though they were cattle trapped in a shed awaiting the abattoir.

That night, they all sat once more in the common room, the candles casting a warm, flickering light across everyone’s faces as they all took a moment to just breathe. They’d spent so much of the day arguing over whether or not to leave, that it hadn’t properly sunk in that they had the option. But as they all sat round and looked at each other, the radio quietly replaying the message over and over, it finally properly clicked.

“Holy shit. We’re really leaving aren’t we?”

They all looked at Scott’s stunned face and slowly, the knowledge that yes, should everything go well, they’d be leaving the house soon and traveling to Yosemite and hopefully find the Sanctuary full of people. They’d be somewhere safe with food, medicine and protection. They wouldn’t be alone.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter as they shared memories of their past and reminisced over them. However, it didn’t leave the bad taste in their mouths that it usually did, because now they had hope for their future.

At some ungodly hour, everyone finally departed for their mattresses, feet dragging and eyelids drooping through exhaustion. Stiles knew he should have made everyone go to bed many hours ago, but the atmosphere and feeling of love and safety was far too addictive. In the end, he believed it would do them all more good then sleeping would.

Once everyone had left the room, he pottered about for a few more moments, picking up cups and the like before depositing it all in the washing up pile for tomorrow. He was about to turn around when he actually felt the eyes raking across him just before a pair of strong arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him back against a warm chest.

“I wondered where you’d gotten too. I thought you’d gone to bed.”

A kiss was deposited in his hair, then on his neck, then just under his ear as warm breath ghosted across his skin making him shiver.

“I was listening to the Pack, making sure they were all asleep…”

Derek trailed off, pressing more kisses to the spot on Stiles’ neck that drove him crazy, effectively turning him to jelly in his boyfriend’s arms.

“I’m gunna take a wild stab in the dark here and say you aren’t in the mood for going to bed.”

“Oh no, I am completely up for going to bed. Just not for sleeping…”

And with that Stiles felt the arms tighten around him, which was the only warning he got before he was lifted up and slung over the broad back of his Alpha werewolf boyfriend.

“You freaking caveman! I have legs you know!”

Chuckling under his breath in response, Derek ignored the stream of insults and lighthearted thumps on his back as he made his way to their room.

Later, after a truly astounding round of sex, they lay together in the dark, faces millimeters apart as they held each other, breaths mingling.

“Do you really think we can do this Derek? Or have I made a huge mistake. I just…I couldn’t cope if anyone else died. Especially if it was through my insistence that we leave. I-“

“Shh,” Derek put a finger on his lips to stop the flow of worry and self doubt that had somehow slipped through them before running it soothingly over his cheek.

“We can do this Stiles. You can do this. If there’s anything you’ve proven over these past few years, it’s that you always want what’s best for the people you love. And lets be honest, you’re pretty much the only one of us with brains. It’s the only thing we keep you around for!”

“And here I was thinking you only wanted me for my cute ass.”

“You have a point there, I’ll give you that. Okay, brains and ass then.”

They both burst into a quiet round of chuckles. God Stiles loved that sound. Whenever Derek laughed or chuckled or even just smiled it sent sparks of joy through him, his heart so full of love that he thought it might burst. He’d seen the Alpha be unhappy for so long that he treasured every single second of happiness that Derek enjoyed and he strove to make sure he felt more of it.

“But truly Stiles, I believe in you. We all do.”

Sobering slightly, Stiles stared into his boyfriend’s eyes and saw only utter sincerity within them. The same Derek Hale who had once hated and distrusted everybody was now looking at him with such honest belief that it made his throat close up and eyes sting.

“I love you.”

It was the first time one of them had said it out loud. They both knew of course, it was stupid to think otherwise. They both felt it in their souls that they were meant for each other exclusively, not another person on the earth either before or after the apocalypse could ever measure up and they didn’t care to even try. They were each other’s and that was that.

And yet they had never said it. Stiles figured that it would be too hard for Derek to say; knowing how closed off he could be about things like that, even after he opened up and let himself feel. He showed his love in deeds not words, both for Stiles and the rest of the Pack. And Stiles never wanted to force Derek into saying it, to make him feel like he had to by saying it first.

But as they led together in the dark, bodies so close they were practically one being, he couldn’t hold it back any longer. Who knew how long any of them had left and Stiles wanted him to hear it at least once, just in case anything happened.

And yes, he’d love to hear it back, but he understood. He knew Derek loved him and that was all that mattered.

He felt arms tighten around him even more, pulling him into Derek’s warm chest as his head was tucked beneath the Alpha’s chin. From there, Stiles could hear Derek’s heart beating loud and strong as a kiss was pressed into his hair and he understood what Derek was saying without words.

“I know Derek, I know.”

Stiles actually felt his boyfriend’s relief and he smiled to himself, happy in the knowledge that he was indeed loved and with a fierceness not many could claim.

He closed his eyes and snuggled closer into the warm furnace that was Derek’s chest as the Alpha traced patterns into the skin of his back, soothing him to sleep with the steady beats of his heart.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, Stiles eventually working up the will to move. He extracted himself carefully from where Derek had turned into a wereoctupus before heading to the kitchen to get breakfast and coffee started.

Half an hour later, all the Pack were awake and swarming the kitchen as Stiles once more made pancakes, deciding to use up the last of the ingredients he needed. After all, if things went well they’d have plenty of food soon enough.

The room was filled with the delicious smell of cooking pancakes and the laughter of the Pack, who despite their nerves, felt like a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. They were all sick of being trapped in the house, knowing there were things out there that could kill them all at any moment and not knowing why they hadn’t. They were sick of sleeping with one eye open and having to always watch over their shoulders. They couldn’t wait until they finally had safety and security.

“Okay guys,” Stiles said around the huge mouthful of pancake he was chewing.

“Stiles, swallow.”

A round of choking and sniggering followed Derek’s gruff comment.

“Mature,” he deadpanned.

Once Stiles had indeed choked down his mouthful of pancake and everyone had stopped sniggering, he resumed speaking.

“As I was saying, we need to spend today packing and preparing. I’d already started doing this but didn’t have a plan of where to go. Now we have a destination we can plan properly. So I want everyone packing up the essentials; food, clothes, weapons. You get the idea. The Jeep and Camaro are parked at the other end of the tunnel and have mostly full tanks if I remember rightly. So everything we need gets stashed in there. I want us prepared to leave in minutes should anything go to shit.”

“Do you…do you think anything will go wrong?”

Stiles turned to face Isaac and sighed before answering honestly.

“I don’t know Isaac. It could. But if we prepare for every outcome we can think of and stick together, I’m sure we can do it.”

He nodded, seemingly placated by Stiles’ assurances. Stiles just hoped he could deliver on it. But now wasn’t the time for self-doubt. The werewolves would surely be able to sense it and Lydia could smell fear better than any freaking werewolf alive! He had to have utter faith in himself and his plan or else it would never be pulled off. There were no other options.

They finished their breakfast, chatting and laughing all the while despite the swooping and churning of their stomachs. On the whole though, they were simply enjoying being together. Half of the time they were imagining what it would be like when they reached the Sanctuary. The word ‘if’ was never once uttered.

“Okay, you’ve all finished stuffing your faces now, stop putting off the hard work. Chris and Allison, you are in charge of the weapons and all that stuff. Decide what to take and how best to store it so that it doesn’t take up a ton of room.”

They both nodded and headed off. If anyone knew how to conceal the maximum amount of weapons in the minimum amount of space, it was the Argents. 

"Boyd, you do the heavy lifting okay big fella. Get Erica to help you as well. Lydia, can you ration out all the food and tell Scott and Isaac how and where to pack it."

They all nodded, necking the last of their coffees before standing up and heading off. 

"Melissa, can you get all the medical supplies together? As much as you can, just try and make it take up as small a space as possible. Great, thanks."

Stiles smiled warmly at her. It had taken a little while, but they were finally approaching their normal relationship once again. They'd even got as far as actually talking about his dad. One night, after a particularly rough few hours of planning, full of brutal self-doubt, he finally gave up and made his way down from the attic to the kitchen to make coffee. Surprisingly, he did not find it empty as he'd expected, what with it being about four in the fucking morning. 

Melissa had been sat there, hands wrapped round a mug of tea as she gazed into nothingness, tears welling in her eyes and dripping down her face. She made no noise though, almost like she didn't even realise she was crying but the pain and sadness she must have been feeling was too strong and couldn't escape any other way.

Despite not being in the best mental space himself, Stiles couldn't just turn around and pretend he didn't notice her. He couldn't just leave the woman who had essentially been a surrogate mother ever since his own passed.

He sat down in front of her awkwardly, ringing his hands in his lap as she continue to gaze into space, too lost in whatever was occupying her head. After a few moments, he slowly reached out and gently placed his hand over hers.

She jumped at first before realising who was in front of her. But instead of greeting him she choked out, "oh God, I miss your dad so much".

Realising what she'd let slip out, she slapped a hand over her mouth in shock, eyes wide with panic as well as grief, tears pouring down her cheeks faster and faster. 

And suddenly, all of his anger towards her and all of the blame he'd piled on her seemed so cruel. Cruel and unjust. And his heart shriveled with crippling guilt. 

Reaching out slowly, he took her wrists and gently pulled them away from her face, where she'd dropped her head and buried her face in her hands. He covered them with his own, huge pale palms covering hers easily. 

"I'm so sorry Stiles, I shouldn't have-"

He shushed her, squeezing the hands in his gently.

"Melissa, it's okay. I have something I need to tell you…”

He broke off and took a deep breath, clutching her hands tightly.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know it wasn’t your fault and I should never, ever have blamed you or made you feel responsible. Especially when you’re mourning too. And my dad…he’d be so disappointed in me.”

His throat closed up as he admitted aloud what he’d been thinking for a while. The thing that sent shards of ice into his already tattered and tired heart. The knowledge that his father would be disappointed in him.

“I should have thought about you. How his…his death had affected you. I don’t even know how you two got together or for how long. I don’t know anything. But I know he’s always cared about you and he’d be so angry that I didn’t even try to help you. And that aside, you’ve looked after me for so many years. The shit me and Scott have put you through is truly mind boggling and you’ve taken it all. You’ve loved me like another son and I’ve loved you like another mom. I still do. So please, please know how sorry I am. Honestly. If I could take it all back I would.”

Mellissa listened to his stuttering, choked words in silence, but something about her changed with every word; a weight seemed to lift off her slight frame, her eyes lost some of their pain. Finally, she brought Stiles’ hands to her mouth and placed a kiss on the back of each of them with such motherly tenderness that it brought tears to his eyes.

“Oh Stiles, you have nothing to apologise for. You were hurting and grieving, I understand. That’s not to say it wasn’t hurtful, but I understand why you thought and said what you did.”

Stiles nodded, heart bursting with joy at her forgiveness even as it grew heavy with unshakable guilt. He couldn’t take back what he’d said and done, but he could change now. He could try and make amends. With that decided, he let a small smile grow on his face as he settled more comfortably in his chair.

“So, what happened then, with you and dad? I never did get to quiz him over it and make him squirm, so I guess you’ll have to take the heat for both of you.”

Mellissa laughed, a small but wonderful thing as she too settled back in her chair, hands leaving his to wrap back around her mug.

“Well, lets see now…”

Stiles smiled softly, warmth spreading through him as he heard how his dad and Mellissa finally realised they were crazy about each other and had been for a while. He heard how they finally got together and how life was so wonderful for them. He heard how his dad wanted to wait till his next break from college to tell him. He heard how truly heartbroken she now was, but thankful at least that she got to have him when she did.

Together they laughed and talked and cried, reminiscing on the life of John Stilinski. Together, they broke down the barriers between them and shared the burden of their grief. It didn’t fix them, not entirely, but it was a damn good start.

Shaking himself from his memories, Stiles turned to Derek and directed him to the attic to bring him his plans and maps. He had new hope in his heart after far too long and this time, he knew he could do it. Now that he had a destination, he was positive he could get them there. And this time, there would be no casualties. He couldn’t lose any more people. If anyone was to die, it would damn well be him.

The rest of the day passed in a huge mess of packing and preparing, each member of the Pack busy with their own designated job. Stiles barely had time to sit down between helping everyone pack appropriate things, going through the weapons collection and picking the best ones, sorting out the food issues and last but certainly not least, actually planning the route they would take and how they would get past the infected that he was sure still prowled outside. 

Eventually, a solution came to him and he gathered the Pack around the table.

"Okay guys, I've had an idea about how we can actually get away from here. I know it’s been quiet out there over the last couple of days, but I just know the infected are still out there, the freaking coked-up ones too, so we need to be able to defend ourselves if they attack.

From what I've seen, there's too many for us to beat in a straight out fight, but if we're clever, we can hopefully avoid one altogether.  
As you guys know, the last time I had to sneak past a large group of infected, I did it by covering myself in mashed up zombie guts. Now, I would do that again but I don’t know how well it would work with so many people, especially when so many of you are werewolves. The whole principle is to hide our scent with the smell of the infected, and whilst it works with one or a few of us, would a large group be able to cover up our scent enough? Or would it all mix together and alert them? 

I don’t know the answers and I’d rather not find out in the heat of the moment when a zombie is chewing on my ass thank you very much. So we leave that plan for now and only use that technique in smaller groups and if we have no other choice. 

So the only thing I can come up with that isn’t outright ‘attack the fuckers’, relies on us being very, very quick and quiet because it all hinges on whether or not we can use distraction to trick them.”

Stiles takes a breath, feeling a bit dizzy after pretty much spewing the information and ideas at them in one breath, his hands fidgeting and gesturing so much that Isaac actually had to duck at least twice. Casting his eye over them, he reckoned they’d caught what he’d said anyway so he once again threw himself into explaining his plan.

“Okay, so, the Jeep and the Camaro are still parked at the other end of the tunnel right? Good, so that’s the target okay, we get to there. As I said before, a very small bunch of us needs to take all our shit and stow it in the cars and sort out a seating plan. I don’t want Erica and Boyd growling at anyone stupid enough to sit between them or Scott making cow eyes at Allison if she’s more than three centimeters away.”

Giggles rippled up and down the Pack, all of them knowing their friends very well. 

“Then we take the gas and other flammables that we have left spare and make a circle around the house. If it comes to a stand off and the infected are coming at us, we light it on fire. That way they’ll be so busy trying to get through the flames, that they won’t realise we’ve left through the tunnels. The burning petrol should also be strong enough to disguise our scent too. We’ll also make some Molotov cocktails, Lydia’s specialist mix of course, just in case we need to bomb the fuckers. Does that sound like a plan?”

Stunned faces met his gaze as he finished talking. It wasn’t that bad was it? It was risky yeah, but when was anything 100 percent foolproof in this new world. Yes there were many ways it could go wrong but surely the Pack understood it was all he could think of. Oh who was he kidding, it was shit he-

“Stiles…that’s genius!”

Huh. Well that puts those worries to rest then.

He grinned widely as the rest of the Pack hurried to agree, their support and praise making him swell with pride, though none so much as Derek’s proud smile and warm hand on his shoulder. 

“Brilliant! Okay, we’ll have a quick lunch then get to it. If we hurry, we could be leaving tomorrow.”

Enthusiastic nods answered his words as everyone quickly grabbed themselves something to eat and, more importantly, a cup of coffee. Stiles bloody well hoped this Sanctuary had a decent supply of it!

Half an hour later, they were once again ready to get going and Stiles was left trying to organize who did what within his plan.

“Would you all shut up for two seconds! Oh my God! Thank you! Okay, well Lydz, you get working on some kick ass explosives for us please, but remember; they need to be safe for travelling with okay? Coz we definitely need to take some with us just in case. Great, thanks. 

Okay, I think Chris, Allison and Boyd should take our stuff to the cars. Chris and Allison know how to pack weapons away better than anyone on this planet and Boyd my friend, you are a walking mountain. All the heavy lifting automatically goes to you, sorry buddy. So grab our stuff and take it out. I don’t need to tell you to be quiet and stay on your guard, but seriously, be quiet and stay on your guard. I’ll have Jackson and Isaac waiting at the gate as backup in case you get spotted, but I think you’ll be fine.”

They nod and quickly begin shouldering the Pack’s bags, stuffed to the brim with food, supplies, clothes and an abundance of every kind of weapon imaginable. Boyd lived up to his man-mountain status and was easily balancing almost all of their gear, none of them wanting to risk a second trip.

“Okay guys, good luck and just scream if you need us. The more high pitched and terrified the better.”

He was met, as per usual, with three near identical ‘not impressed’ expressions before they opened the door, weapons close by, and stepped out of the gate, closing it safely behind them.

The cars weren’t actually that far away, but there were many trees blocking a direct line of sight, so there was nothing more the remaining Pack members could do save keep an ear open and provide backup if needed.

Time passed slowly, creeping like syrup and leaving a thick smog of tension in its wake. They’d heard nothing from the forest, either from their friends or from any infected. It was hard not knowing and Scott and Erica were practically climbing the walls. 

Just when the tension and worry almost became too much and they sent someone else after them, three figures appeared from out of the trees sending waves of relief through the Pack. They hurried back inside, the gate closed and locked firmly behind them as they all made their way back to the common room, crowding around the table to hear the report.

“We didn’t see a thing. Well, not directly anyway. But there were plenty of signs. You were right Stiles, they are most definitely still out there and they’ve been creeping their way closer and closer for days, taking out more of our traps and warnings. I estimate that in another few days, they’d have gotten rid of them all and would have had a clear run at the house.”

Chris’ words left silence in their wake, the whole Pack realising just how close they had come to being overrun. But it wasn’t dread and fear that swept over Stiles at hearing the news. Well, it wasn’t just dread and fear. No, an immense sense of relief spread through him at the knowledge that what he was doing was right, that he was leading the Pack correctly. 

“Well there we go then guys, if that isn’t fates way of cutting us some slack then I don’t know what is! So with that knowledge, I say we definitely leave tomorrow. I don’t want us tempting fate and being here a second longer than we have too. So me, Derek and Scott are going to go and make a perimeter with the petrol now because I really don’t want to leave it too late. By the sounds of it, all our perimeter protection has been taken out by them, so this is the last defense. Let’s get it done.”

Fifteen minutes later, Stiles, Derek and Scott stood at the front entrance of the Hale House, not wanting to risk the walk from the tunnel gate to the front of the house. They each held a jerry can of gas and one of Lydia’s self-igniting Molotov cocktails just in case it got ugly. 

This was the riskiest part of Stiles’ plan, as they were very out in the open and had minimal protection. Plus, he didn’t know quite how intelligent the evolved type of zombie was and he really didn’t want to risk one of them seeing what they were doing and understanding it. The whole point of it was to be a surprise and a distraction as well as protection. It was vital this went right. 

Gesturing with his head, Stiles motioned for them to make a move, ducking carefully under the barbed wire across the doorframe and stepping onto the front drive. It was still scattered with decomposed corpses, though the stench wasn’t as bad this time once you got used to it. 

Moving forward first, Stiles walked in a straight line until he was happy with the distance and began pouring the petrol. He saw Scott and Derek follow his example but couldn’t watch their progress, focusing only on his job and watching for infected. 

By some miracle, they made it all the way around, meeting back where they started with bewildered expressions. They really had been sure they’d end up encountering a zombie, most likely even fighting some. The lack of them was incredibly eerie and concerning, especially seeing as there were clear signs of them being there. It made Stiles’ stomach roll with unease. Something just wasn’t right.

Despite his fears, they made it back inside the house and down into the tunnel, much to the relief of the Pack. They all had dinner and enjoyed each other’s company, laughing and joking in a way that had been absent for too long. But despite it all, Stiles just couldn’t shift the rolling, sickening dread in the pit of his stomach. 

“Can you believe this is our last night here? This is the last night we’ll spend in these tunnels. I can hardly believe it. These walls have kept us safe; this is where we hid when all this shit went down. This is where we waited for you Stiles. This has been our sanctuary, our whole world for God knows how many months now and it’s actually gunna be hard to leave.”

They all sobered at Scott’s revelation and it was one of those rare, crystalized moments when you look around you and suddenly become aware of your entire existence. 

Stiles reached across Derek and put his arm around his best friend, giving him a squeeze. He could have tried to find words to express what he was feeling, but there was no point. Looking around at the faces of his family, he knew they weren’t needed.

“Okay then guys, let’s have an early night eh? We’ll be having a really early start tomorrow and we’ll all need the sleep. Me, Derek and Chris will take first watch.”

After many grumblings and shouts of goodnight, Chris, Derek and Stiles found themselves grabbing their weapons, a walkie talkie each and heading up to their designated watch posts. 

Derek headed to the front door, taking up post inside the hallway with a good view through the open letter box or the gaps in the boarded up windows. Chris took his usual spot at the gated entrance to the tunnels and Stiles headed up to the attic where he had the best view of them all. 

An hour or so in, midnight struck and boredom hit. So Stiles did what any normal young man would do faced with chronic boredom, a walkie talkie and his boyfriend. 

He began flirting. 

It was getting truly disgraceful and he could practically feel the heat from Derek’s cheeks all the way from the attic when seven words ground his whole world to a halt.

“I can hear this too you know.”

A pitiful moan escaped him and he was pretty sure he heard Derek bounce his forehead off a wall when they realised Chris had heard the entire thing through his own walkie talkie. Stiles wasn’t sure it was physically possible to be any more humiliated and embarrassed then he was right then. He truly wished the ground would open up and swallow him. 

He was stuttering through an apology when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Heart pounding, he stood up and looked madly around, hissing at Chris and Derek to shut up as he kept his eyes and ears open for any sign of movement. 

He was just beginning to calm when all hell broke lose.

“DEREK! CHRIS! THEY’RE HERE!”


	47. Chapter 47

A/N HEY GUYS!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!! I hope you all had an utterly wonderful time :) Also, HAPPY NEW TEEN WOLF!!!! Well, I say happy...I'm sort of desolated to be honest :p But I won't say much more incase some of you ain't seen it yet. But yeah, anyway, this chapter is a bit different to owt that's been on here before. So give it a chance and don't shoot me! It's really a filler chapter before the next one that wasn't originally going to be in it at all, but as I was writing the proper next chapter, it needed this to make sense. But don't worry, the next one will be up soon :) So yeah, I hope you don't mind too much and if you do, I'm really sorry! Anyway, on to the chapter! Toodle pip :)

 

He was a doctor once. A scientist. That much he knew for certain. He was a recluse whose only use for other humans was the blood he needed for his work. Day after day he studied blood, studied the diseases that effected it. He was disliked throughout the hospital but that didn't matter so long as he had blood to work with.

When the infection first broke out he tried to warn them, he even took a blood sample from a dying infected patient to study how the infection spread and mutated the body. He told them there was no escape and that running would do nothing but spread the disease further, but they didn't listen. They ran and the disease spread until it became clear that this couldn't be contained.

Chaos broke out.

He was alone in his lab, the infected scratching at his door, only a bunch of automated locks holding them at bay. He knew he couldn't escape the infection, he knew the generators would eventually stop and the locks would open and he'd be torn apart. He didn’t want to die like that; he didn’t want to die at all. So he did the only thing he could think of doing.

He injected himself with an infected blood sample.

He couldn't stand the idea of being in pain, of being eaten before he turned. It was inevitable now no matter what he did, so at least this way it would be painless. At least this way he would be in control. 

He can’t remember the process of turning, can hardly even remember the feeling of being 'alive' anymore. His thoughts and memories constantly slip away from him like sand between his fingers until all that remains is this constantly screaming, constantly burning hunger that grows louder and louder and louder until one day, that's all he is. Hunger.

Then the locks open. He moves to the door and it opens at a push of his clawed, deformed hands. There's blood and flesh under his chipped, sharp nails and thick gouges along his arms. He steps out, body coiled tight like a spring as he finally leaved the confines of the room he died in.

He prowls through the hoard of infected, their mindless, decaying bodies parting before him like the Red Sea before Moses. There was something in his mind, a connection to them and as he stared at them through eyes that picked up more detail than he knew was possible, he knew he could lead them. He was their Master.

A scent drifts on the air, something that makes every new instinct respond instantly. He knows this scent. Human. 

Stretching himself to his full height, joints cracking as he does, he raises his head to the ceiling and roars.

He knows what he must do. He will follow the scent. He will find them. And he will destroy them.


	48. Chapter 48

A/N Well, here we are guys, the end of the road :') I've never been as nervous about posting anything as I am right now, because this is it! The last chapter! What will comes next is a short epilogue because I just couldn't leave you with nothing after the end of this chapter...God I cried like crazy writing this and in a really mean way, I hope you do too xP

So yeah, onto a slightly soppy and emotional little speech here so feel free to skip if you aren't arsed xD I've had the most amazing time writing this, like you wouldn't even believe. You guys have been the best readers anyone could ever, ever ask for and I've loved talking to you and hearing your thoughts and just knowing that you're actually reading something I've written! This fic has taken up my brain for over a whole year now and I'm a bit worried about what I'll do now that it's over! But good things must always come to an end and writing this for you guys has definitely been a good thing ^__^ 

Oh God I'm so nervous! But the last thing I have to say (besides to ask you to have a stiff drink nearby as you read the chapter...) is thank you. A huge, squishy thank you because urgh I just love you all so much :) So thank you for everything and without further ado, here it is, the final chapter :) I love you all and I hope to hear your thoughts on it ^__^ Toodle pip :) 

 

 

People say that when a disaster happens, something truly life threatening and terrifying, the world slows down. Time grinds to a halt.

Bullshit.

At the moment Stiles would have needed it the most, time betrayed him. It wasn't the world that slowed down, but him. Everything else stayed the same whilst he was left cemented to the floor. His heart was the only part of him that sped up, feeling like it would explode and he felt sick with the realisation that this was it. They had finally come.

There were so many.

They were all going to die.

“…ILES!! FOR FUCK SAKE STILES ARE YOU THERE!? ANSWER ME!!”

Screams and shouts of his name reached him through the cement block he was stuck in and the total, unmasked panic in his boyfriend’s voice snapped him out of his trance.

“I’m here I’m here! Okay, Chris, go get the guns set up to cover us. We need to get out of here now! Derek, we’ll set the petrol line on fire and deal with any that get past it until everyone is through the tunnel and into the cars! Come on, they’re getting closer!”

Stiles saw a group of infected amble and drag themselves closer and closer to the line of petrol. Those weren’t the issue; the issue was the faster, more whole zombies who were running towards the door where he knew Derek was still waiting. And they were running with speed.

There was no way even a werewolf could take on so many alone and as Chris had run back into the tunnels to wake and warn the others, there was only Stiles as back up.

Looking at the stairs behind him desperately, he knew there was no way to get all the way down from the attic in time to help. But there was one other way he could.

Breathing deep, he grabbed his trusty bat, now reinforced with brand new and extra sharp nails, as well as a long hunting knife strapped to his thigh, before he jumped out of the window.

It was a good thing he knew the layout of the house like the back of his hand because a few meters to the left and he would have been plummeting straight towards the ground. As it was, he landed heavily on the roof of the second floor.

He jumped again onto the porch roof and jumped once more, finally landing on the ground with a thump. His legs buckled under him for a moment, a sharp pain shooting through his ankle making him hiss involuntarily, giving away his position to the approaching infected. Fuck. He better not have broken it or he was royally screwed.

In a matter of seconds Stiles was back up on his feet, ignoring the stabbing pain and twisting with his bat, swinging it viciously into the side of the zombie’s heads with a sickening squelch, knocking it clean off. Sssttttriiiiiike!!

With a truly frightening grin, he straitened and shot a wink behind him to where he knew Derek was fighting to rip open the boarded up front door. A ragged groan dragged his attention back just in time to land another hit at the faster infected coming at him. Unfortunately he only hit its chest, forcing it to stagger back but not enough to halt it altogether. With a growl of anger, it came at him fast, its sharp, clawed hands swiping at him, making him jump back to avoid being quartered. 

With a moan of pain, Stiles almost crumbled to the floor, having thrown himself back onto his hurt leg. Oh shit buggery fuck. He had most definitely screwed it up. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he turned his attention back to the pissed off zombie about to descend on him. He stuck his bat up like a sword blocking a strike, holding it off and giving him enough time to grab his dagger from his thigh holster and drive it hard through the zombies neck, half severing it and pushing it aside.

"What the fuck was that!?" came the irate growl of his Alpha werewolf boyfriend as he slashed through the throat of another infected that Stiles hadn't seen coming.

"I hurt my ankle when I jumped OUT THE FUCKING WINDOW! Not too surprising Derek!" 

He forced himself to his feet, hopping and taking as much weight off his hurt ankle as possible before swinging his bat at the head of a disturbingly tiny infected in a tattered, stained pink dress. Pushing the awful image away, he moved over to Derek, the two of them standing and fighting side by side as they waited for reinforcements. 

"So, what's a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?"

"Shut up Stiles."

Grinning, he readied his bat for the next round of zombies approaching them from the front. Casting his eye around, he saw that there was a very large number coming out of the trees, too large a number to be defeated by Stiles and Derek alone, possibly even the whole Pack. 

"Shit. Derek! We need to light the fire!"

Nodding, he shot forward, taking out the first infected and moving on to the second. Not about to let Derek get too far ahead of him, terrified that he would get separated from the Alpha and unable to defend him, Stiles followed. 

His ankle was agony with every step but he pushed past it, taking out two zombies with his bat and dagger, gagging at the smell of rotting bodies and old, congealing blood. He should have gotten used to it by now, but it still turned his stomach every single time.

Stiles dispatched two more zombies before he made it to Derek, who cast a quick eye over him, presumably looking for any injuries. Frowning at how Stiles was favoring his other leg, he had no choice but to look back at the line of petrol and the army of infected approaching swiftly from the forest. 

"Freaking hell. Get it lit now! I'll sort out the infected that get through."

Nodding, Stiles shoved his hand in his pocket and gripped his zippo lighter tight, pulling it out and shooting forward towards the line of petrol. He pulled out a tapered piece of paper and set it on fire, dropping it down onto the line and watching as it burst into flame, spreading along it like a row of burning dominoes.

He had to step back as the flames grew higher and hotter, cutting them off from the oncoming wave of infected. Stiles stood and stared through the flames at their twitching, rotting bodies as they roared their anger to the sky. He smiled, wild and feral as they shrieked and contorted, honey eyes seeking out Derek’s as they stood side by side, blood singing and hearts pounding.

Then he saw the horde of infected begin to part down the middle, as though they were consciously making way for something. Then he saw what emerged from their ranks and his blood ran cold.

It was the one zombie that haunted his every thought. The Evolved One.

It stalked through the infected, their bodies moving out of the way like water around a rock. But the truly terrifying thing, you know, apart from the whole giant horde of ravenous zombies separated from them only by a ring of fire, was the way they obviously deferred to this evolved zombie. It was plain to see that somehow, it was their leader.

And wasn’t that just their fucking luck. Not just a fuck ton of infected turning up on their doorstep, but a fuck ton of infected led by a superior version.

Said zombie stopped a few meters away from the wall of fire, its elongated limbs moving with animalistic purpose, its grey skin stretching thin over its deformed body, looking ready to burst in parts. But none of that compared to its face. 

Unlike the others, which were either too rotted to make out more than a skull, or too destroyed to look like anything other than a moving corpse, this zombie looked human. Human but twisted into a creature of pure terror with eyes like the pits of hell; blood red pupils with flecks of orange floating in an inky pool of darkness. They were the eyes of Death.

"What the fuck is that?"

Derek spoke quietly, almost to himself, sounding like all the air had been punched from his lungs. Blindly reaching out with his free hand, Stiles found and gripped Derek's blood covered one and held it tight, both offering and taking some much needed comfort.

"That's the one I've been telling you about,” he whispered. “The thing that's been toying with us for weeks. The Evolved One."

Stiles stared straight ahead, eyes locked with the hellish nightmare in front of him when he heard a commotion from behind. From the corner of his eye he saw Chris, Boyd and Erica run out of the house and skid to a stop at the horror of the sight before them, gasps of “oh fuck” escaping them.

Seeing the new additions, The Evolved One’s mouth began to twitch and an expression that could only be described as dark glee spread over its face, the twisted gash of a mouth contorting itself into a grin of pure malice. 

Then it began to laugh.

The noise was like nothing he’d ever heard. No creature or person he’d ever come across in all his years of fighting and dealing with the supernatural managed to match the sheer menace and darkness that was contained in that laugh. It was a promise. A promise of death and destruction.

“Run! Go!”

They fled to the hacking laughter of The Evolved One as he ordered his pawns over the fire line, regardless of how many burned up. Either way it caused a shit load of problems for Stiles and the Pack, as they either had normal infected on their tales or the fucking flaming ones! Stiles wasn’t sure which was worse, all he knew was that he and the Pack had to get the hell out of dodge.

He and Derek covered their retreat as Chris and Allison began firing on the approaching infected with their usual uncanny accuracy, arrows shooting straight through eye sockets. But even with that and the fighting power of Stiles’ bat and dagger, combined with the ruthless effectiveness of Derek wolfed out and pissed off, they were no match for the sheer number of infected now advancing through the fire. 

“We need more time Stiles! The Pack isn’t out yet! We need a few more minutes!”

Chris had skidded to a halt next to him, still shooting as he told Stiles the news.

“Fuck. Okay, send Allison in for Boyd and Erica, we need their help! And you go help Scott lead everyone outside to the cars, but don’t start them up until he sees us all come out of the tunnel. We don’t want them to hear us!”

Chris nodded and retreated back to the front porch of the house, sending Allison off whilst continuously shooting the horde of infected.

Stiles turned his attention back to them and Derek. The fire was thankfully slowing them down, as there was only one gap in the now roaring blaze surrounding them that they could get through. It was made from a pile of the first few infected, their bodies blanketing the fire and creating a small space through which a few infected could come through at a time. 

But even with that, they would soon be over run. He and Derek fought like wild things, protecting each other even as they pressed on and decimated as many zombies as they could as quickly as possible. 

It was exhausting work and Stiles was so tired he felt like he could quiet happily collapse any moment, his ankle barely holding him up and his whole body feeling like it was encased in lead. But seeing the love of his life next to him and knowing that the rest of his family were currently trying to escape made him push through it, defying all the signs of pain and exhaustion that his body was sending him. 

Two roars pierced the air announcing the arrival of the hellions that were Erica and Boyd. They leaped into the fray with a wild passion that always emerged from them when their Pack was threatened. They’d have been royally fucked on so many occasions over the last few years if it wasn’t for the dreadful duo’s fighting skills and if there was ever a time for it, it was now. 

Sensing she was being watched, Erica met his eyes and let her murderous grin widen, her face already splattered with blood and her teeth sharper than razors. 

“Go get em Catwoman!”

She howled in delight and tore into the fray with a sadistic glee that should probably be alarming. Boyd stayed by her through it all, as he has done with everything else since they met, and they fought together like an unstoppable wall of destruction. 

Together, the three werewolves and one very pissed off human tore into the onslaught of infected trying to overpower them and storm the house. For a few moments, it felt like they might actually manage it. They might actually win. 

But they were punished for their hubris in the form of the Evolved One stepping forward, prowling over the charred bodies at its feet as it crossed the fire line.

Stiles’ heart stopped because he knew there was no beating that thing. They had to run.

“Guys, fall back! Fucking move!”

Derek lunges from his spot near the house and dashes forwards to where Boyd is being cornered by a group of infected, cut off from a growling Erica. He tears through and grabs the bigger man, pulling him back and together they sprint to the front door of the house on the heels of Erica and Stiles. 

Refusing to get to safety before everyone else, Stiles stands at the door and shouts for them to hurry. They skid through the door and relief floods Stiles.

He’s so focused on the people he loves that he forgets to look out for himself.

By the time he realises, it’s too late. 

Sharp talons pin him in a punishing grip and no matter how quickly he grabs at his dagger, he isn’t fast enough. Sharp teeth close over the soft skin between his neck and shoulder and clamp down hard.

It’s agony. Pure agony. A garbled, broken sound escapes him as he screams in pain, but most of all he screams at the unfairness of it all. He screams because he knows he’s a dead man and there’s nothing he or anyone else can do about it. 

His hands finally closed around his dagger and he plunges it into the brain of the infected still clamped around his flesh, watching in satisfaction as it falls down dead. But it’s too little too late.

He tried to stem the flow of blood but it’s thick and fast, pouring out from between his fingers and filling the air with the sharp tang of copper. But he knows he’ll be dead before he bleeds out anyway.

Letting out a howl of despair, he kicks at the zombie’s head, smashing his heavy boots down until it’s a pulpy mess at his feet, his head ringing with pain and the hellish sound of the Evolved Ones laughter.

“Stiles?”

Never has he heard his name uttered with such pain, such utter desolation. 

He turns and meets Derek’s eyes and sees utter agony in them.

“No…” he whispers and Stiles would have done anything for Derek to not have to sound like that.

“Guys get in here!”

Erica’s voice breaks them out of their trance and Stiles staggers through the door into Derek’s waiting arms as Erica, Boyd and Chris, who must have come back to check on them, barricaded the front. They hadn’t noticed Stiles yet in all the action and panic.

Suddenly his legs weren’t quite as strong as they usually were and he sank to the floor, Derek sliding down with him until they were both on their knees, one of Derek’s hand pressed over the wound and the other cupping his face.

“…I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…so sorry…”

He didn’t realise he’d been muttering until Derek shushed him gently, his thumb rubbing away the tears that had begun to fall from his eyes. 

“It’s okay Stiles, it’s okay…we’ll get you fixed up and you’ll be good as new. It’ll all be okay, I prom…”

He trailed off with a choked sob, because he knew, just as Stiles did, that there was no hope. Stiles was a dead man walking from the moment those teeth closed over his skin. 

“…Stiles? Oh God…”

He heard Erica’s shell-shocked voice behind him but couldn’t turn to look. He wasn’t sure he’d want to even if he could. 

Chris moved forward and crouched down next to Derek, a look of sadness and hopelessness on his lined face as he handed a piece of cloth to Derek to help stop the flow. Not that it really mattered; he’d be gone soon enough no matter what they did. 

Chris then moved back to stand guard by the door, which by the sounds of it, had a barrage of pissed off infected trying to get in. 

Suddenly he felt hands on him and then the glorious feeling of pain being leeched away as Derek, Erica and Boyd sucked as much as they could from him. It was a kindness he appreciated more than he could say. They all knew he was dying, but they would at least make sure he wouldn’t die in pain. 

Stiles shot them a tired smile before leaning his head forward, resting his forehead against Derek’s, who carried on gently tracing his thumb across Stiles’ cheek before kissing him softly. 

He was just thinking how he could die right then and there, safe in the knowledge that he was loved, when all noise from the front door stopped.

A single scrapping noise was the only thing that broke the perfect silence until Chris called Derek’s name, thick worry in his normally unshakable voice. 

Meeting Derek’s eyes they rose together, Stiles refusing to let him go alone, before moving over to the door. Stiles leant forward and looked through the gap.

It was the Evolved One.

A hackling laugh broke the silence as its face twisted into a mockery of unholy glee, a sick feeling settling into Stiles’ stomach at the sight of it.

Then it spoke, fucking spoke, and the word fear was no longer enough for what he was feeling.

“Hello, little fragile human…”

God, its voice. Never had Stiles heard anything like it. It was the sound of the fires of hell, of shattered glass and broken bones. 

“Do you think you are safe in there? Do you think this will keep us out for long? We will get in…and we will destroy you…”

Its feted breath wafted over Stiles and he had to fight the urge to throw up. He probably would have if not for the fact that fear had glued his mouth shut.

“We heard the message you know? We know there’s a Sanctuary…there’s more humans…and we heard where it is…”

Another grating laugh.

“We had been saving you…our own personal food supply…kept fresh. That’s why we didn’t immediately slaughter you…but now we know there’s more. We don’t need you anymore…”

Stiles felt like he’d been slapped because of course, of course that’s what it had been doing! That’s why it dismantled the traps but didn’t attack, instead rounding them up like fucking cattle. 

“Now that we know where to go, we can finally destroy you…and feast…then we will travel to this Sanctuary and it will become our new food source…”

And then it struck him. They couldn’t be allowed to do that. They couldn’t be allowed to destroy his Pack, his family, before moving on and taking out what could possibly be one of the only sizeable, safe human refuges left. Stiles knew what he needed to do. 

Moving away from the door, ignoring the laughter once more and the renewed attempt at breaking through the barricaded doors and windows, Stiles looked around for something, anything to write his plan on.

Then he spotted it, a battered notebook on the stairs, a pen attached to it with some string. God he was so glad he’d picked that particular habit up from his dad.

Ignoring the curious looks and shushing their attempts at talking, he scribbled the first part of his plan onto the paper before finally showing it them. The other half, well, if he wanted their help, they’d need to be kept in the dark.

He knew it was the right decision when after a few moments of pained thought, Derek nodded and together with Boyd, the three of them grabbed the gas cans that’d been left by the door after they’d finished putting down the fuel line. Two of them hadn’t even been used and another was still half full.

Slowly, he and Derek began to make a trail through the house and down into the tunnels, as Boyd used the half full can to splash around upstairs.

Adrenalin and necessity lent him strength and he was dearly glad of the werewolves amazing pain relieving powers as they made their way into the room that housed the generator and all of their fuel. It was full of wood, gas cans and firelighters. It was perfect.

They made quick work of covering the room with fuel and scattering around some of the wood and firelighters before sending Derek back upstairs with handfuls of more to scatter about as he brought back Erica, Boyd and Chris.

Once he was alone, he looked around the room and realised that this was it; this was where he would die. 

He looked up as the wolves and hunter entered the room, all looking to Stiles for his instructions as they asked him how they’d set it alight and get away in time. 

Now it was time.

“Guys…I won’t be going with you. And I think you know that. I’ve been infected, I’m…dying. And there’s nothing any of us can do about that. I won’t put you all in harms way and then force one of you to put me down. So…I’ll be the one lighting the fire.”

A soft whine escaped Derek and he staggered, as if the weight of Stiles’ words were crushing him. 

“No, please no…” he choked out and Stiles had never hated himself more than he did right then, as he realised that for the second time in his life, Derek was about to lose everything to fire. And once again, it was someone he loved holding the match.

Stiles moved forward and grabbed on to Derek, who wrapped him up in his arms like he could protect him from the whole world. And even now, it still felt like he could. 

He pulled back slightly and leaned his forehead against Derek’s, one hand tangled in his soft, dark hair and the other gently stroking down his back.

“Listen to me Derek,” he whispered. “I have to do this. I’m dying anyway and this way, I die doing something that matters, something that makes sure the people I love are safe for a little bit longer. Not to mention all the people that might die if they make it to the Sanctuary. There could be kids there Derek. And this way, nobody I love has to see me turn into one of those things. And no one has to put me down.”

“Then let me stay with you Stiles! Please! Let me go with you!”

There were tears falling down Derek’s face. He looked like he was about to lose his whole world. Some might think it’d be an honour to be loved like that, but Stiles couldn’t help but wish Derek loved him a little bit less, just so he wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Oh Derek…my Derek. You know you can’t. You have the Pack to look after, they need you. Scott is turning into a great leader but he isn’t ready yet. The journey to the Sanctuary will be hard and dangerous even with you leading it, but if anyone else tried I’m scared they won’t make it. You have to get them there Derek. I love you with all my heart and soul, more than I ever thought it possible to love. But I can’t keep you by my side for this. I have to do this alone.”

Derek slumped in his arms and Stiles clung to him all the harder, wishing more than anything that he’d never have to let go. But this wasn’t a world where wishes came true and the longer he was selfish, the less time it left for them to escape. They had to leave now.

He looked at Erica, Boyd and Chris over Derek’s shoulder and nodded to them in goodbye, knowing that they understood how much he loved them. Erica was sobbing against Boyd, who’s usually stoic face was tight with sadness. Even Chris looked deeply pained and it made Stiles know that he must have done something right in his life, if his death was affecting them this way.

“You have to go. I’m so sorry, you have to go.”

He grabbed Derek’s face in both of his hands and kissed him with as much love as he could muster. And what a kiss it was. If anything could get him through what he was about to do, it was that.

“I love you Derek, I love you and I’m sorry.”

“No, I won’t leave you! I won’t!”

Stiles choked down a sob and nodded at Chris and Boyd, both of them understanding what he was asking of them. They stepped forward and grabbed Derek’s arms, pulling him from Stiles’ arms and all but dragging him from the room. 

It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, watching Derek go. But the knowledge that he’d live on and protect the rest of the Pack was more than enough reason to do it. 

Just before they rounded the corner of the door and moved out of site, Stiles locked gazes with the still struggling Derek, his eyes Alpha red as tears poured down his face.

“I love you Derek.”

“…I love you too Stiles.”

And then he was gone, being dragged down the corridor and through the gate at the exit of the tunnel.

He’d told him he loved him. Derek had told him that he loved him. 

Stiles had to lean against the wall as the full weight of it hit him, tears spilling from his eyes and his heart twisting painfully. He’d almost never expected to hear those words from Derek and especially not in the little time he had left. But he had.

A great crash sounded above him, forcing him to straighten up and get into position. 

He rushed to where the bulk of the flammables were set up, just at the base of the generator. And he waited as they followed his scent through the house and down the stairs into the tunnels.

He should have been terrified. He should have been shaking like a leaf and beyond petrified but he wasn’t. Because Derek Hale loved him. 

Stiles looked up when the first infected ran into the room and sure enough, it was the Evolved One. It was followed by more and more infected, running through the house, through the tunnels and into the room, surrounding their leader and waiting for some signal.

Stiles Stilinski locked eyes with the monster in front of him as it growled and snapped its teeth, a grin on its face that would send the hounds of hell running. But Stiles wasn’t afraid, instead he smiled; a terrible, twisted grin and let lose a howl that held his whole heart and soul. 

He stood there as the remaining horde and their nightmarish leader prowled in front of him and he howled. He would show them that he was not afraid. He was angry, he was hurting and he was fucking proud; proud of his family, who were on their way to safety because of his actions. 

Stiles had never thought of himself as a hero, but this, this very moment was the sum of his life, the reason for his existence. The pain running through his body came back with a vengeance and nearly made him crumble to the floor but he stood strong, ignoring the liquid fire flowing through his veins and the agonising stabbing in his messed up ankle. The love of his Pack, lent him strength; strength to do what he had to.

This was it, the final full stop of his story. And he would face it bravely. 

And with that, Stiles pulled out his lighter and finally experienced the feeling of time slowing down. He watched the Evolved One realise what he was about to do and that he couldn't escape, too many infected pouring into the tunnel and blocking its escape. Instead, it lunged forward, trying to reach Stiles but it was too late.

He felt like he was in a vacuum, his ears were packed with cotton wool, blocking out the noise of the infected. Instead, he heard only his own ragged breathing. He felt every single beat of his heart, relishing the feeling of being alive even though he knew in mere seconds, he wouldn't be.

Stiles' free hand came up, grasping onto Derek's necklace. He let his eyes fall shut, blocking out the horrors in front of him, not wanting them to be the last thing he saw. 

Instead he pictured Derek; the way his cute bunny teeth showed when he smiled, a thing he cherished more than anything. He imagined the feel of his lips, feeling the ghost of their last kiss on his own. He remembered his warmth and how nothing made him feel safer or happier than being wrapped up in his warm embrace, hearing his strong heart beating as he laid his head on Derek’s sturdy chest. 

And finally, he pictured the whole Pack. He was doing this for them, for them to go on and live. He loved them all so much that it'd always made him feel like he would die from it. And now he would.

"I love you..." Stiles whispered, before finally dropping the lighter.


	49. Chapter 49

A/N OH. MY. ACTUAL. GOD. I AM SO SORRY I HAVE LEFT THIS SO LONG! I SWEAR I HAVE A LEGIT REASON FOR IT BUT I'M SO SORRY!!!! Long story short I managed to get myself all sick again which meant going back to England, getting rushed into hospital for a bit and then when I got out I had so much stuff from Real Life to get done that this totally got stuck on the back burner. Then this week I forced myself to finish it and I just wasn't feeling what i'd written at all. So I've basically re written the whole damn thing over the last few days and ended up with a monster! It was only meant to be a tiny little epilogue!! But at least you get a lot for your wait! I truly am so very, very sorry and I really hope I haven't ruined the whole damn thing!

Okay, now that the apology is over, I just want to say thank you. This is really it now, the very end. It's all done, the story is over. And I am so very, very sad about it. I love you all so bloody much and couldn't have dreamed of a better reception then what you guys have given this daft fic :) And I really hope this ends it all off in a way you're happy with. And seriously, thank you so much. Please feel free to drop me a comment to let me know what you think/to shout at me/ect ect because I really adore hearing from you guys :) Anyway, without further ado, here it is, the very end. Thank you again and for the final time, toodle pip :) Neeka xxxx

 

 

The sun was warm on his back, the sounds of birds waking him slowly and the smell of the forest all around him. It was peaceful and comfortable, making him want to laze around and do nothing but hold the beautiful man beside him.

Speaking of the beautiful man beside him, Derek smiled as he felt soft puffs of air hitting the back of his neck. He slowly rolled over, eyes still shut against the bright morning light, to kiss his lover good morning, to see his honey eyes open and focus blearily on him as a soft smile broke out on his mole spotted face.

Derek opened his eyes and was met with nothing. He was alone. Then it hit him.

Stiles was dead. He was dead.

The pain hit him like a tsunami wave, crashing over him and drowning him. There were still days when he woke up like this, expecting to roll over and see Stiles asleep beside him, his limbs sprawled all over as his soft snores pierced the air.

It killed him every time he had to remind himself he was gone. He was gone and he would never come back.

It was one of those mornings then. Derek squeezed his eyes closed against the burn of tears behind his eyes, his throat closing up before he could get control of himself. He didn't think it was possible to hurt this much and still be alive. When Derek's family was killed, it hurt him more than words and still did, despite having finally been able to heal with the help of the Pack.

But this, Stiles' death, that was like the very fire that killed him. He felt like his heart was ablaze, a roaring inferno burning him up but not letting him die. It would fade at times, just softly burning embers, but even the smallest fan could blow it back into a vicious blaze that would send him curling up in his bed, unable to move with the pain of it. At times like that, not even the Pack could bring him out of it till the flames died down once again.

The Pack was the only reason Derek was still alive now, his survival instincts and will to exist practically nonexistent. He just didn't know how to be without Stiles and he didn't want to either.

Derek didn’t even remember the day and night following Stiles’ dea-no, not just his death. His sacrifice. He deserved the honour of having it called that. ‘Death’ just seemed too mundane for Stiles who, despite being human and oh so breakable, always seemed the most likely to have an epic, heroic death. To go out with a bang, not fade away.

Derek snorted to himself. In the end Stiles really did go out with a bang. Despite how that thought made him wince, it also kind of made him want to chuckle because Stiles would have loved that. He always did have a weird, black sense of humour.

It took two weeks before anyone told him what happened during that time and even then he only knew bits and pieces of how he was almost feral, taking the combined efforts of Chris and Boyd to drag him out of the door, and then Scott, Isaac and Erica to restrain him as they drove away.

Then came the faint howl and Derek let out an agonized whine as he longed to answer with his own, anything to let Stiles know that he was there, that he wasn’t alone. His arms ached to hold Stiles and it hadn’t quite sunk in yet that he never would again.

When the explosion lit up the sky, Derek’s world disappeared. He just shut down, staring in the direction of the Hale house, watching the flames lick the sky and the smoke fill the air in the distance.

For two days he hardly responded to anything or anyone. Luckily, the majority of the infected in the surrounding areas had been destroyed in the explosion, so thankfully he wasn’t needed to protect anyone.

Though in all honesty, everyone knew that if he did come into contact with the infected, he’d be more inclined to simply let them destroy him, though the words were never spoken out loud.

He refused to eat and wouldn’t sleep, only stared straight ahead as he retreated into his mind, the only place left now where Stiles wasn’t gone.

For four days he stayed in limbo; exhaustion, starvation and sleep deprivation making the world and his mind blur together, their edges mixing and overlapping, leaving him unsure as to what was real and what was not. Then one night, it all finally broke.

Derek finally collapsed into a dead sleep, his body finally shutting down in protest and forcing him to sleep. But sleeping meant dreaming.

And boy did he dream that night. He saw Stiles. He saw his warm honey eyes, the moles and freckles like constellations on his skin, the scars that littered his pale body, telling the story of danger and bravery that was his life. Most of all, Derek dreamt of his smile, the one that was only ever directed at him.

Derek didn’t know how long he dreamt for, but it felt like he saw almost every moment of their time together, from the first time he caught sight of him trespassing on Hale lands, to the very last time, Stiles standing tall and brave despite the pain and blood, face lit up with joy at hearing the words Derek should have said all along. Then he saw fire.

Derek woke up screaming, tears pouring down his face as the full magnitude of his loss hit him hard. The Pack rushed to him and crowded round, offering their support and strength in any way they could. But it was Scott, Stiles’ best friend who gave him what he really needed. He moved forward and pulled the Alpha into a strong embrace.

And finally he broke, sobbing into his Beta’s neck, arms clinging to him as though he was a raft in the swirling maelstrom of Derek’s grief.

He knew they all cried that night; they all wrapped each other up in their arms and mourned, safe in the embrace of Pack. They felt Stiles’ absence most strongly that night and they knew nothing would fill the gap he’d left in their Pack, their lives and their hearts. 

Despite the fact he was a human, they just never assumed he’d be the first to leave them. Stiles was such a presence in their Pack that everyone just felt like he was a solid, dependable thing. They thought he’d be with them forever.

God, Derek wished they’d had forever. They were meant to have forever.

It didn’t exactly get easier after that night; the pain didn’t lessen and he still wished he’d stayed in that house with him, but it was easier to get up and carry on. It reminded him of something he’d once seen when he was younger. His human cousin had gotten a bad wound that later became infected.

He was so sick Derek thought he might die, but then they’d cut open the wound and drained it, sewing him back together and letting him heal. It took time, but once the poison was taken out, it allowed him to heal. He never fully recovered, having a limp for the rest of his life, but he could carry on.

As someone who’d never gotten sick or hurt for more than a few moments, it had confused the hell out of Derek then, but maybe that was what had happened to him now. He’d drained out the poison that night, sobbing and raging and despairing with his Pack and now it was time to be sewn up and left to heal.

He too would never fully heal, he’d be broken and scarred for the rest of his life, the pain never truly leaving him, but he’d be alive. Alive to protect the Pack, to carry on what Stiles had always strived to do, even before some members of the Pack even liked him. His heart was hard to get into but once you were there, you were there forever no matter what and he would protect you with his dying breath. Which is exactly what he did.

Derek sighed and shook himself out of his memories, wearily pushing his body from the mattress on the floor. Today was an important day, so he might as well get started on it. He dressed in the small room he shared with Isaac, stepping quietly around the still sleeping Beta. Living quarters were still sparse in the Sanctuary, though much better than they were at first if the stories were anything to go by, so most people had to share with at least one person.

Technically as Alpha, he could pull rank with everyone in the Pack and request a room to himself, making Isaac fit into another crowded room. But he would never inflict something on a member of his pack that he wouldn’t suffer himself. Plus, he had the feeling that the Pack wanted to keep an eye on him at all times, which could be very annoying, but he couldn’t rightly refute the need for it. It also helped sometimes, to have someone there, a quiet presence giving him support and demanding nothing in return.

Once dressed, he stepped out of the room and onto the wooden deck, leaning on the railings and looking at the forest floor below him.

When he’d first come to the Sanctuary, once he’d gotten enough of his senses back to notice, he was shocked to realise that the majority of the living quarters and important areas were located above ground level, built around the trees and in them like some bizarre network of tree houses on steroids. It really was quite genius, as even if the infected managed to breach the tall wooden walls, everyone could take cover above ground and begin firing down.

The Sanctuary was exactly what its name suggested, a little haven deep inside the forest with more people in it than Derek had seen in months. The Pack had suffered greatly the first few days, as their senses had gotten used to being on high alert listening and looking out for the infected, whilst only having each other around. So to be faced with about a hundred people all in one place whilst their senses were still at their full strength, was pretty damn hard.

But despite their grief, it had done them all a world of good being here. They no longer had to worry about food or water, as there were plenty of both easily found. They had as much protection as could be found and it wasn’t just up to them to keep themselves alive anymore. There were high walls and watchtowers, with many more people to fight alongside should anything get in or go wrong.

They also weren’t alone anymore. The Pack was exceptionally self reliant and didn’t really need any outsiders to help them, but once the infection broke out and they were secluded for months with no contact but each other, they soon found themselves missing and even yearning for other people.

But despite all this, every time Derek walked through the Sanctuary, he couldn’t help but remember who made it possible for him to be there, for the Pack to be there. The person who may well have saved the Sanctuary itself from future destruction. It hurt to know that every breath he took was bought with the breaths Stiles would never have. Every moment was a moment Stiles was deprived of.

But it had been Stiles’ choice and Derek knew that. As much as he wanted to blame himself, as much as he started to late at night when he felt the crushing weight of his grief pressing down on him, he knew that he couldn’t. Because that would take away the fact that Stiles had chosen to do it, had sacrificed himself to save Derek, the Pack and a whole Sanctuary full of people he didn’t even know. It was something so huge and amazing and Derek wouldn’t dream of taking that away from him, of lessening the incredible strength and bravery of Stiles’ actions by taking any kind of responsibility for them.

He knew that years ago he would have been thinking very different things. He would have hated himself for not stopping Stiles, for not preventing what had happened. He always took on the blame and guilt for anything that went wrong but over the years, with the help of Stiles and the Pack, he learnt that there was a very big difference between feeling guilty and grief stricken but respecting the choices, either good or bad, of the person that had been lost or hurt, and taking all the blame himself.

Shaking himself from his musings, lest he lose all the strength he would need to save for today, he focused his senses on the world around him, losing himself in the fresh, earthy smells of the forest, the sounds of the birds welcoming the day with their songs, the sight of the weak morning light hitting the tops of trees and filling the camp with its warm glow. The wind caressed his face softly and he breathed it in, taking solace in the forest, the one place he'd always felt at home. It was a truly special place, this Sanctuary.

Slowly, without him even realising, the camp started to come to life. The sounds and smells of the breakfast shift swirling around him, as the mass eating area slowly filled up with sleepy, hungry people. Derek watched as the guard changed, as he always did, and once satisfied that they were set up and alert, he turned his gaze away, just as the soft pad of feet approached him. 

"Morning Derek...you doing okay?"

He knew the Pack was still cautious around him. It'd lessened somewhat in the last few weeks but it was still there, as though they were all tiptoeing around waiting for him to snap. He knew he'd given them good reason to, but he couldn't bear the thought of making this any harder for them. 

Today however, even Derek didn't know how he would react. 

Derek turned around to face Scott, the only other person in the Pack who felt Stiles' absence as much as him. They'd leaned on each other so much in the past few weeks, needing the company of someone who loved Stiles like they did, who needed him as much as oxygen. They needed to be around someone who was also learning to breathe without Stiles in their lives.

He gave a non-committal grunt and a shrug. "You?"

Scott nodded, but his eyes showed the same feelings as Derek. They were far from alright, so far that they weren't even sure what alright was anymore. But they would hold it together for each other, for the Pack. For Stiles.

"Best get ready then. The ceremony starts in an hour."

Derek sighed, wishing he could push away any thoughts of today, wishing he could crawl back into bed and not come back out until the world righted itself and gave Stiles back to him.

But he knew that wasn’t to be, so as much as it killed him, he needed to move and face the day he’d been dreading for weeks.

Today was the Memorial Day. The day when everyone finally had the chance to place their loved ones names and picture in the newly built memorial. It was meant to be a way of saying goodbye, to get some closure. 

Many people never had the chance to bury those they lost, so this was a way for them to feel that same sense of finality, a way to make sure their loved ones had something that memorialised them, that let the world know they’d been here, that they’d mattered.

Derek knew this was the right thing to do, he knew that it would help but to him it felt too final. Until today, he could almost fool himself into thinking Stiles was still there. It still felt like he was desperately hanging onto any trace of him. He was just so scared that if he put Stiles’ name on the memorial then he’d have truly lost him forever.

A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his thoughts and he turned around to see the Pack assembled in front of him, their faces full of sorrow and looking to him for leadership. And he needed to be there for them.

“We should get going Derek, it’ll be starting soon.”

Thank God for Lydia and her unnatural ability to put aside her emotions to get done what needs doing. Despite their rocky start, he and Lydia had become strong allies and later, friends. She squeezed his shoulder and gently led him away from the balcony, pulling him into the Packs midst, all of them pressing tightly to his side and providing the comfort only a Pack could. But still, there was a gap there that could never be filled, a gap that they would be commemorating today.

Together, they left their dwelling, climbing down the ladder one after the other before setting off in the same direction as almost everyone else inside the Sanctuary, estuaries of people merging together from their varying buildings and all moving together. 

The atmosphere was thick with shared pain and longing, connecting them all and giving them a feeling of togetherness. They were each one glistening strand in a spiderweb of grief.

Derek stumbled along, his sorrow and dread pressing like a weight that bent his knees and sucked the natural grace from his body. He tried to focus outwards, taking in the pain etched onto the faces of all those around him and taking a sick sort of comfort from that. 

A hand pressed into his own and he knew without looking that it was Erica's, his ferocious, beautiful Beta. He wished he could suck up her bravery like he would her pain. Another hand found its way onto his opposite shoulder, his senses telling him it was Scott.

His Pack, as always, gave him the strength and will to keep walking, to put one foot in front of the other until they finally stopped with the rest of the crowd, the relatively small building in front of them seeming to take up all the space in the world, blotting out the horizon until it was all Derek could see.

A hush descended over the crowd of perhaps a hundred people, as one of the Sanctuaries' leaders stepped up onto a wooden box and began to speak. But Derek didn't listen, the words blowing away on the wind as he fixed his eyes on the building and held onto the hand in his for all he was worth. 

The leader must have finished speaking, as he stepped off the box and directed the people in front of him into orderly lines. From what he'd gathered, everyone was to have time inside on their own or with a group. They would carve the name of their lost into the memorial and place pictures if they had them. Looking around, he saw people crying, clutching pictures and flowers to their chests whilst some held their heads up high, refusing to let tears fall where others could see. 

Derek watched people walk through the doors with weights attached to their spirits and watched them exit lighter, the pain still clear in their hearts but no longer bowing their backs under its weight. But he wasn't sure if he wanted that burden removing from his shoulders. 

He wasn't sure if he wanted the ghost of Stiles removing from his arms.

But all too soon, they found themselves in front of the wooden hut, the doorway covered by a curtain of smooth wooden beads. The craftsmen amongst them had been working on the memorial for weeks now, ever since the defenses and essential parts of the Sanctuary had been finished. It was beautifully built but Derek couldn't seem to make his feet step through the door. 

He turned instead to look at his Pack, his friends and family. They all held something in their hands, whether it was a garland of wild flowers or a candle and they held their heads up high, tears rolling proudly down their faces, as though they wanted everyone to see how important their lost friend was to them. They would never be ashamed or hide any tears they shed over Stiles Stilinski. 

The hand in his tightened for a moment and Derek saw their gazes turn on him. But instead of looking to him for leadership and guidance, they were looking at him with the full knowledge of just how much this was costing him. They knew he wasn't ready to let Stiles go, that he would likely never be ready.

"Derek...we just want to let you know that doing this doesn't mean that we have to start moving on. It doesn't mean that we're going to put Stiles to the back of our minds and go on with our lives. Because you and I both know that that's just not possible. Our lives will never be the same without him here and it kills me every day to wake up knowing that it's one more day since I saw him last. I look around at all these people and I just want to scream. Because how can they carry on with their lives like nothing's changed. I want to run around and tell everyone about my amazing, brave, slightly crazy best friend! But Derek, that's what this is about for me. This is a way of letting other people know that Stiles was here and he was loved, is still loved and always will be. So we're not doing this so we can put him aside, we're doing it so there's something more solid than just our memories to remember him by."

Tears were pouring down Scott's face by the time he'd finished speaking, but he made no move to wipe them away or any effort to hold them back. Derek wasn’t much better, his throat thick with unshed tears and the held back screams proclaiming the world so fucking unfair. But despite the pain Scott’s words brought all of them, it was like the vice around Derek’s heart unclenched slightly, as he finally understood that Scott and the rest of the Pack felt the same reluctance to let Stiles go that he did. The knowledge that he wouldn’t be expected to move on or push Stiles from his heart and mind sent relief rushing through him so strong it was almost dizzying.

He wouldn’t have to say goodbye.

Derek looked at each member of his Pack, each member of his family and he saw their strength, their love and their support. And yes, he even included Chris in that too. The man, despite being an Argent, had shown he was an honest and brave member of his Pack, and a unexpected, steadfast friend. Melissa has also proven her worth in the Pack and fitted in seamlessly. Before the world went to shit, she was really only connected through Scott, but afterwards she just fit in without a hitch.

Derek drew on that strength, knowing they were doing the same, taking it from each other just as much as they gave it away and it lent him the will to nod, take a deep breath and turn back to the curtain of wooden beads.

It felt harder to push those little beads aside than to fight a hundred infected with nothing but his bare hands. But he did it and stepped slowly into the room in front of him.

It was lit by the candles of the people that had gone before him, pictures, flowers and other trinkets where all over the very back wall below the huge wooden board covered in the carved names of those the people of the Sanctuary had lost.

When his eyes landed on the space that would soon hold Stiles’ name, his heart stopped. Then a strange sort of peace descended on him and for the tiniest moment, he could have sworn he heard the faraway sound of Stiles’ voice and the soft press of lips against his own. Derek held his breath as he strained his senses to find more traces of him, but it had vanished as soon as it had arrive, leaving nothing but a sense of calm and the warmth of knowing he was loved.

With a small smile that he barely noticed was on his face, Derek stepped forward and pressed his hand to the empty space. It felt good, it felt right that Stiles should be memorialized here, deep in the woods in a building made from love and sorrow in equal measure, littered with objects meant to honour and remember those that had been lost.

Not only would Stiles be memorialized here, but his father too. They’d all had time to come to terms with his death and had even been able to bury him, which was more than could be said for many others. But Derek knew Stiles would have wanted his fathers name with his own. 

Yes, this was a good place; a place Stiles would be pleased with.

The Pack set to work. They set up their candles amongst those already there, settled their flowers and wreaths below the board and then stood back. Derek looked over his shoulder at them with a confused frown.

“We think you should do it Derek. Stiles would have wanted you to.”

The Alpha stared at Scott, taking in his words but not quite feeling them. He cast his eyes over every member of the Pack, seeing their tear stained faces and their sad smiles. No, that wasn’t what Stiles would have wanted.

"No. No that's not what he'd have wanted. He loved all of us and I don't think he ever really understood how much we loved and cherished him back. So we should all have a hand in this. It might not have been what he'd have requested, but it's damn well what he deserves."

Small smiles spread over their faces, even as more tears fell, and Derek knew he’d done the right thing. He turned his face back to the board and allowed one claw to creep out, completely ignoring the carving tools laid out. If he was going to do this, he wanted to do it with his own two hands.

Steadying himself, he raised his claw and slowly, carefully began to carve an S into the empty space. As he carved, using what skill he had to make it beautiful, he poured all of his love, all of his loss into every movement. Finally, he wiped his hand over it to loosen the chippings and stepped back, a smoothly carved ornate S now stood proudly. Nodding to himself, he stepped back and Scott stepped forward to take his place.

Derek watched as Scott did the same, using his claw to carve the next letter of Stiles’ name. One by one, each member stepped forward, the wolves using their claws and the humans using the tools. 

The end result was a slightly wonky, mismatched carving of Stiles’ name, but Derek knew that he’d have adored it. And going by the watery smiles on the faces of the people around him, the Pack knew it too. 

They repeated the pattern with the Sherriff’s name until finally, both generations of Stilinski’s were carved into the memorial for all to see. 

Derek could have stayed staring at the words for hours, but their time in the memorial had to come to an end. One by one, the Pack stood in front of the board to say their goodbyes.

“I love you man. Best friends forever okay?”

“I always noticed you. Thank you for seeing the real me.”

“Bye Batman, I was proud to be your Catwoman.”

“Bye Stiles, I promise I’ll look after them.”

“You’re still a sarcastic asshole…but I miss you Stilinski.”

“I always considered you my other son Stiles. You grew up to be a man that made us all proud. I miss you and your dad every day and I always will. You look after him. I’ll keep Scott out of trouble, I promise. Love you.”

“Thank you for protecting my daughter Stiles. You were a great leader and a good man.”

“You made me laugh every day Stiles and half the time I was pretty sure Scott loved you more and I was the other woman! Thank you for protecting us all, I’ll try and follow your lead.”

“I know you thought I stole Scott sometimes, but you were always his brother and you always will be. And I’ll miss you, even if you insulted my scarves.”

The Pack held each other up, tears streaming down their faces as they nodded at the memorial and walked back through the doorway, leaving Derek alone.

He walked back over to the board and placed his hand over Stiles’ name before leaning his forehead against it.

“See, we all love you and we will never ever forget you. I still can’t believe you’re gone, I feel like I can’t exist without you. But you sacrificed yourself for a reason and I swear to you that I’ll protect them to my last breath. I just miss you so much. I know I only ever said it the once, but…I love you Stiles. I always will.”

Derek pressed his lips to his name and gently kissed it, wishing it was Stiles’ lips instead. Then he forced himself to step back and walk to the door.

With one last look, he finally turned and left the building, walking to his Pack who waited for him in the warm morning sunlight.

Derek walked out of that room different then he went in. The iron band around his heart had loosened slightly and Stiles no longer felt like a dead weight in his arms. 

Instead, Derek felt him walking with him side by side, their hands locked together and his laugh dancing away on the wind.


End file.
